


Most Of Me Needs You

by epicfrenchfry, Megalomaniacal



Series: sick of living in the eye of the storm [9]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Murder, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unrequited Love, Violence, more POVs, putting this first so we don’t get Yelled At
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2020-06-28 15:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 42
Words: 123,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epicfrenchfry/pseuds/epicfrenchfry, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalomaniacal/pseuds/Megalomaniacal
Summary: Sequel to “I Won’t Fall Unless You Ask Me To”.Three years after the events of IWFUYAMT, Theon and Robb are happy, still together and content with the knowledge that Ramsay Bolton and his Boys are locked away in jail. The contentment doesn’t last, however, and they soon find that their happiness and safety are much more fragile than they’d ever realized.—Updated every Wednesday.Chapters with triggering content will have a warning in the authors note at the start.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This has I’d say less angst as far as the length of it but it’s more... graphic? There will definitely be warnings throughout the story, and there is a happy ending. This is only the second fic in the trilogy (which also has a happy ending) after all.  
> I know we said 2-3 weeks but we’re impatient and posting it now  
> Thanks for returning to us, pls give feedback if you’d like, and I hope u enjoy! -m

The little box in his pocket seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Robb fiddled with it, turning it over and over with his hand in pocket, and his gaze never left Theon's face. His handsome Theon, eyes so bright and soft, focused on the squirming pup in his lap. Fresh from a day out with Sansa and Lady, Queenie wore a floral- patterned collar and a rose pink silken bow on her head. She writhed in excitement in Theon's lap as Theon's fingers carded through her thick fur, but Robb couldn't take his eyes off the serene smile on Theon's face. 

Three years. It had been three long, albeit quiet years since everything, and three years of peacefully loving each other. On the table before them was a dish of spaghetti with homemade sauce, and each of them had a glass of wine. These went ignored, however, in favor of each other and Queenie. Grey Wind was at Robb's feet, quiet and faithful as always. 

Everything was perfect, and Robb itched to pull the box from his pocket and ask now, but anxiety ate at him. What if this wasn't the right time? What if, gods forbid, Theon wasn't ready yet? His fingers closed around the little velvet box, then released and he pulled his hand from his pocket. 

"From how she acts, you'd think she hasn't seen you in days," Robb remarked, a smile curving his lips.

“She loves me.” Theon teased, looking fondly down at her. She was fully grown now- not that he’d ever admit it- but she was still tiny and lightweight, more fluffy fur than anything else. To be fair, he had been gone most of the day because of work. She was allowed in the hair salon sometimes, but not often. 

While Robb had decided to go to community college for political science, Theon had gone to cosmetology school. A year or so later, he was done and got certified to be a hairdresser. He loved it, gossiping with the old and middle aged ladies, talking to parents who came in to get their baby’s first haircut. The hours were fairly flexible as well. 

He shifted his gaze from Queenie to look up at Robb, taking in just how gorgeous his boyfriend was. How the corners of his pretty blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. Theon finally piled some pasta onto his plate after staring at Robb a bit. “You seem tense, love. Are you okay?” 

"Yeah," Robb said, sitting up. "Yeah, I'm okay." He smiled brightly at Theon and scooped pasta onto his own plate, scooping sauce on top. The smell was rich with herb seasoning, one of Robb's old favorite smells from childhood. He twirled his fork in the spaghetti, sneaking glances at Theon. 

The box weighed heavier in his pocket, and his eyes followed the movements of Theon's hands. How would that hand look with a ring on it? That ring finger, cut short by Ramsay Bolton. Both mutilated fingers were long healed, and Robb wanted to put a ring on that finger, put a little beauty and joy on that old reminder. But what if Theon didn't want it? Robb grabbed the parmesan cheese and grated a liberal amount onto his pasta.

Why was Robb lying to him? Theon knew him well enough to notice signs that something was off, something was wrong. And then Robb was looking at his fingers, his ruined fingers, on which he normally used prosthetics. They were at home, and he hadn’t felt like wearing them, but now he was wishing he had. Robb seemed off. Theon couldn’t just ignore it. 

He couldn’t help that nasty nagging voice in the back of his head screaming that Robb was too good for him. His therapist, Varys, had told him to counter his intrusive negative thoughts with positive ones. They often discussed ‘challenging negative thoughts.’ Theon liked his therapist well enough, but it still didn’t stop him from worrying something bad was happening. That Robb might be leaving him, even. Robb- beautiful perfect Robb, his pretty eyes and hair and smile, his scent, his smooth voice, the way his arms felt around him at night... 

He mixed some sauce in with his pasta, shoving a forkful into his mouth so he had an excuse not to talk. 

Robb opened his mouth, seeking to ask Theon if there was something wrong, but Theon had a mouthful of pasta, and Robb lowered his gaze. They ate in silence; every time Robb went to speak, Theon's mouth was full, and he would only swallow when Robb himself was chewing. It was a tense affair, and Robb was itching with worry. Something seemed off with Theon, horribly off, and the persistent thought came back that Theon wasn't ready, or didn't want Robb anymore. 

Afterwards, when Robb was clearing the plates and Theon was drinking his wine, Robb pondered doing it now. No, he chastised himself, no. First he had to find out exactly what had Theon acting so off.

“I have to use the bathroom.” Theon finally spoke, not looking at Robb as he said it. “I’ll be right back.” He held Queenie in his arms as he headed down the hall, placing her down before going into the bathroom and closing the door. He looked at himself in the mirror. 

Did Robb not want him anymore? Was that why he was acting so weird? It made sense, really, he wasn’t worth much, just another man’s leftovers-

No, Varys told him not to think like that. Varys told him he was a survivor, asked him if he’d talk to other people the way he talked to himself. Yet... he couldn’t help but worry...

Was he no longer loved? No longer wanted? Was he too much of a burden when he sometimes still woke up in the middle of the night, three years later, crying and shaking and waking Robb up so he’d hold him tighter? When he sometimes got nervous and picked at his scars? Was he tired of him? Theon realized he was trembling, and when he reached up his cheeks were wet. Fuck. He cursed himself for being so weak, so sensitive. It was probably nothing, really, just him overthinking things again. He flushed the toilet, just so Robb wouldn’t question it, and splashed some cold water onto his face before returning to the dining room. 

"Are you okay?" Robb asked at once, turning his worried gaze onto him. Theon looked pale and clammy. Was he mustering up courage to leave? "You seem... stressed about something."

“I’m fine.” Theon said quietly, not wanting to answer. If he said he knew Robb lied about being okay, would that prompt Robb to break the news that he was breaking up with him? He sat back down, sipping nervously at his glass of wine. 

Robb sat in his seat opposite and fiddled with the edge of the table. They had had this apartment for just over a year now, and even back then Robb had been itching for this. Now that it was here, and he had that little box in his pocket, why was he so afraid? Theon loved him, didn't he? He loved Theon.

He chanced a glance at Theon and met his gaze, and looked away again. His right hand fell to his lap, slipping again into his pocket just to touch the velvet box and reassure himself. 

"I, uh..." Robb peeked back up at Theon. "There's something I want to say."

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no no no no no. Robb was going to break up with him. Robb was avoiding looking him in the eye- he was going to leave him. Theon’s lower lip trembled, but he didn’t let any other signs of distress show. “What is it?” 

Robb started to speak, chickened out, and bit his lip. He looked desperately at Theon, as though hoping the words he needed were etched into his face. After an agonizingly long moment, Robb stood up. 

"I love you," he burst out, "more than anything else in this world. More than anything."

Had something happened? Something bad? Theon looked back at him, eyes wide. “I-I love you too. So much. You don’t- you don’t even know.” His heart was pounding, racing. 

"I..." His fingers wrapped tight around that little box, and in two strides Robb had crossed the distance between them and fell to one knee before him. He stared beseechingly up into Theon's round eyes. 

"I love what we have, but... I want more. I need more, Thee."

Oh. 

Theon let out a soft gasp and, as if he were in some cheesy romance movie, lifted a hand to cover his mouth and began to hold back tears. Robb wasn’t going to break up with him. He was going to propose- fuck, they’d talked about it a lot, getting married, but Theon hadn’t expected... He stared down at Robb, waiting for him to say more. 

Robb pulled the box from his pocket and popped it open. "Thee... Will you marry me?"

Theon reached out, grabbing Robb’s arms and yanking him up off the floor as gently as one can yank a person. He threw his arms around him, holding tight, letting out a sob- a happy sob. “Of course I’ll marry you, you stupid dumbass. You made me so worried.” 

"Worried?" Robb looked bewildered. "Why would you be worried?" He pressed a kiss to Theon's cheek, wrapping his arms around Theon. In this moment, he was blindingly happy.

“You were acting all weird! I thought you were going to leave me!” He pulled away after a moment, holding out his left hand. “Gonna put the ring on it, mister?”

"Y-Yeah," Robb said breathlessly. He pulled the ring from its silken bed with trembling fingers, and slid it on to Theon's ring finger. "How does it fit?"

“Fits just like your cock in my ass.” Theon joked, and then, when Robb looked confused, “Perfectly. It fits perfectly.” 

Robb laughed. "I'm glad." He kissed Theon on the lips this time, his hands rising to frame Theon's cheeks, and he didn't think he had ever loved him more.

Theon kissed back, teasingly nipping at his lower lip. “I love you.” He kissed him again. “So much. Fiancé. Soon to be husband. You’re gonna look so-“ A peck on the lips, “-fucking-“ Another peck, “-hot in a tux.” 

"Mm," Robb hummed, nipping at Theon's lip. "But you—!" He took Theon by the waist, lifting him up and seating him on the table, so Robb could have easy access to Theon's pretty, unmarked throat. "I'll see you in it, and just want to tear it right back off you."

Theon giggled- fucking giggled, like a schoolgirl with a crush. He tilted his head, exposing his neck to Robb even more. “You have to wait for our honeymoon, darling. I would never dare engage in premarital sex!” 

"Oh," he growled, attacking him with vigor. He pushed his hips against Theon's. "It's far too late. I might just have to take you here, on this table!"

“Oh no!” Theon gasped dramatically, stifling a moan at the contact, bulge growing in the crotch of his pants. “Not on the table!” 

"Would you rather the floor? Or maybe the kitchen counter? Or..." Robb's eyes, darkened with lust, stared into Theon's. "Against the wall, maybe?"

Now Theon moaned, grinding himself against Robb. “Oh, my betrothed, coming to pin me against the wall and take my like a common whore! And before our wedding night as well!” He lifted a hand, holding the back of it to his forehead, as if he were a dramatic rich lady in a time long ago who’d just heard shocking news. 

"Every night until it, and every night after... If you'll have me," Robb said, playing along in amusement. He watched Theon's dramatics with deep affection, and when Theon lowered his hand and peeked up at him, grinning, Robb swooped down and captured his lips in a kiss again.

“Mmph!” Theon’s next words were muffled by the kiss but he happily melted into it, reaching down between them to palm at the bulge in Robb’s pants. Three years. Three years, and he never once grew tired of the way Robb made his heart flutter. How every touch lit him on fire. How his desire for Robb was still as strong as it was the first time. 

"I love you, so much. So much," Robb murmured, dotting kisses down the line of Theon's mouth, his jaw and throat, to his collarbone. Robb's hands went to the buttons of Theon's shirt, working furiously at undoing them.

“I would hope so. I’m your fiancé, after all.” Theon teased, cheeks flushed a happy shade of light pink. “Fuck, Robb,” He groaned, fumbling to unbutton and unzip Robb’s jeans, sloppily pulling them down over his ass- his boyfriend had a nice ass, truly, Theon made a note to himself to appreciate it more. 

"Fiancé," Robb echoed. He loved the sound of that, just like he loved the feel of Theon's hands on his flesh, tingling sparks erupting everywhere he touched. "Gods, Thee— where do you want it?"

“Anywhere,” Theon wrapped a hand around Robb’s semi-hard cock, stroking it. “Anywhere, as long as I can see your face. Your beautiful face- mm...” He leaned in to kiss him again. 

"Here," he decided, fumbling for the button of Theon's jeans. Their lips met as Robb bucked into Theon's touch, and he worked Theon's jeans down enough to slip his hand in and touch Theon's own erection.

Theon groaned into the kiss as he reached around with his free hand to give Robb’s ass a playful squeeze. His ass really was brilliant, and Theon enjoyed fucking it sometimes, but- truth be told- he preferred being the one getting rawed most of the time. 

"Fiancé... I can't wait to call you husband," Robb murmured. He pulled Theon's pants down and threw them off to the side, bending Theon back so he could grab at his ass.

Theon spread his legs wide, laying back on the table, grinning at Robb. “Mm... husband. That sounds good. My husband.” His grin widened. “The girls at the salon are gonna freak.” 

"Sansa's going to freak," Robb realized. "Arya won't be happy... She bet Jon that I wouldn't ask you so soon." He lowered his gaze from Theon's face to his spread legs, smirking at the sight.

“I just have one request-“ Theon moaned at the feeling of Robb’s gaze trailing down his body, and spread his legs wider. “Queenie is the flower girl.” 

"Only if Grey is the ring dog," Robb said. He glanced down at the dogs by their feet, and shooed them. They didn't need to see what he was about to do to their daddy.

“Don’t want the kids seeing us being sinful.” Theon teased. “Now hurry up and put something in my ass before I die.” 

"Death by sexual frustration?" Robb grinned. "That would be horrible. I'll save you." He pushed three fingers against Theon's lips, ordering him to suck.

Theon moaned obscenely loud, taking them into his mouth and sucking them as if his life depended on it. He closed his eyes, bobbing his head up and down as best as he could with fingers, swirling his tongue around them. 

Gods. Robb watched him, cock hard and aching. When he pulled his fingers free, they were slick and wet, and he pushed one into Theon's hole. Theon's hips raised off the table, taking his finger in deep, and Robb teased the second around his entrance.

“Yes, baby, fuck.” Theon moaned, wiggling his hips in a silent plea for more. 

He slipped the second one in, and stretched him for a bit before trying a third. They had just fucked that morning, but Robb was eager to sink into Theon again and fuck him til he screamed.

“Your cock, Robb, please!” He begged, voice raising up an octave. “How cruel, to not only take your betrothed before the wedding, but to make him wait so! You tease me, my love! You deprive me of your thick, hard cock.” His voice turned from teasing to a low, needy tone. 

"My betrothed is deprived?" Robb drove his fingers deeper, hunting for his prostate. "Won't he beg, and let me know just how much he wants me?" Robb found it, and he brushed light over it.

He moaned much louder than necessary, bucking his hips. “Robb, please. Don’t you love me?” His boyfriend rolled his eyes, but Theon kept going. “Why would you make me wait? I need your cock, otherwise I might die. Dead, before our wedding night!” 

"That would be a tragedy," Robb agreed, grinning. He pulled his fingers free from Theon's ass and took his own cock in hand, sliding the head against Theon's hole but not yet pushing in.

“Robb!” Theon exclaimed, pouting up at his fiancé. “You’re being unfair. I never tease you like this.” 

"Liar," Robb smirked. Still, Theon was his fiancé, and he deserved something. He held Theon's hips still and slowly pushed into him.

Theon moaned, reaching up, pulling Robb down to kiss him. He tried to squirm, to take in more of his cock, but Robb’s hold was stopping him from that. 

"Good," he praised, rewarding him with another inch. "Gods, I can't wait to marry you." Robb bent and kissed him.

“But you can wait to fuck me, apparently.” He huffed, but kissed him back anyway. 

"Just teasing," Robb said. He pushed in another inch, and another, until he had sank entirely into the warm heat of him.

“Yes,” Theon hissed, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, Robb. Fuck me. Please? An engagement gift? A nice hard fuck? C’mon, baby, pretty please?” 

"Anything for you," Robb murmured, and let go of Theon's hips to hold the table instead, thrusting into him hard.

Theon gasped, mewling, grabbing onto Robb’s arms to steady himself as he began to get fucked properly. He looked up into those pretty blue eyes, lust-filled and glued to him, and moaned again. “Yes, baby. That’s it. Fuck.” 

He thrust into him again, hard enough that Theon's body slid back over the surface of the table. He groaned, nipping at Theon's shoulder and sucking a bruise where his teeth had marked. He wanted Theon to look in the mirror and know who loved him.

Theon let out little soft, gasping moans with each inward thrusts, shifting his hips so Robb’s cock would hit his prostate. He became louder after that, cursing and moaning and tightening his grip on Robb’s arms. 

"Fuck, Thee," Robb panted, and he let go of the table to grab Theon, hauling him up to cling to his chest with his legs around his waist, standing with Theon in his arms and on his cock.

He gasped, momentarily breathless, the way Robb was holding him driving his cock impossibly deeper inside him. It felt good. Amazingly good. He wrapped his legs tighter around his fiancé, buried his face against his neck, and moaned. 

Robb turned and pressed Theon against the wall, thrusting up into him so hard Theon's back slid over the surface. Robb kissed him while he fucked him, holding his hips.

“Y-yes, yes, yes!” Theon kissed back, nipping gently, playfully at his lower lip. Robb’s cock felt heavenly, perfectly thick and long, driving hard into his prostate. 

"I love you," Robb panted, pulling back to look into Theon's eyes. He slowed, adjusted his position, then thrust deep into him, bouncing Theon on his cock.

Theon’s breath hitched and he was tempted to let his head fall back and close his eyes, but he stared at Robb instead, dizzy with love and lust and affection. “I love you too, baby, more than anything. And I love this fucking- ah!- this fucking cock.” 

"I can't wait to marry you," Robb said. "I'm yours, and you're mine. Now, and forever." He slowed his thrusts, grinding slow and deep into him, abusing his prostate.

Theon’s cock twitched and throbbed almost painfully, and he let out a pitiful moan, his body trembling at the intensity of having his prostate just... pushed and rubbed against like that. “R-Robb- please- if you keep doing that, I- fuck...” 

Robb lowered a hand to Theon's cock, teasing it. "Come for me, Thee," he murmured. He rolled his hips languidly, watching the pleasure flicker across Theon's face.

“N-not fair-“ Theon whimpered, twisting and squirming, nearly panting. “I can’t- Robb, fuck, kiss me, I wanna kiss you when I come, I- fuck- please-“

He moaned obscenely loud when his fiancé obeyed, and he kissed him back hard, gasping and moaning into the kiss as he came. His hips bucked and jerked, come splattering onto both of them. 

"So perfect," Robb breathed, quickening his pace again until he too was coming. Theon mewled softly as Robb pulled out, and a dribble of cum dripped down Theon's inner thigh.

Theon took a few moments to recover before standing up shakily, taking Robb’s face in his hands, and kissing him more gently. “My fiancé.” He murmured between soft kisses. “My Robb. My soon-to-be husband. Aren’t I lucky?” 

"No luckier than I am," Robb said, picking Theon up and carrying him bridal-style down the hall to their bedroom. He laid Theon on the bed and flopped beside him, pulling him into his arms. He nuzzled against him, grinning. "I love you, I love you so much."

“I’m gonna be a bloody Stark.” Theon grinned incredibly wide. “Rickon will be so happy. Fuck, I love you too. Gonna be husbands.” He held Robb tight as well, sharing small kisses and gentle words of affection until they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the ring: https://www.zales.com/134-ct-tw-diamond-leaf-engagement-ring-14k-white-gold/p/V-20064375


	2. Chapter 2

Ramsay loved dogs, but these ones could fuck off and die. Damon was pressed to his side, panting hard, and Ramsay put a hand over Damon's mouth and shushed him. Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn hunched to the wall opposite, and the four of them were silent. Outside the alleyway, two hounds paced past, noses to the grounds. One let out a baying howl, lifting his head and staring down their alleyway. It's glittering eyes lingered on the dumpster beside them, and it moved on without noticing them. The dogs' handlers followed.

Minutes later, when Ramsay was sure that they had gone, he ventured out and peered from the alleyway. "It's clear," he said quietly.

“If we get caught...” Damon hissed, grabbing Ramsay’s arm. “We could earn the death penalty.” And then he’d never see Skinner again. They were out of the prison, out of the city the prison was in, yet still nowhere near getting out of Westeros and to Essos. It seemed like it would be easy at first, before their absence was noticed, before the cops and dogs were sent out. Four high security prisoners.

"We won't get caught," Ramsay shrugged. "We've made it this far. We'll make it to Essos."

"You'll see Skinner again," Sour Alyn jeered. "Don't worry, Damon."

"Yeah, then we can listen to him screaming again," Yellow Dick said, rolling his eyes. "'Skinner, oh Skinner, fuck me harder!'" He and Sour Alyn both laughed.

Damon turned and glared at them. “Sorry that I’m actually able to get laid without having to kidnap and rape someone.” He snapped. He did want to see Skinner. More than anything he’d ever wanted in his life, he wanted to see Skinner again. He still worried... worried that Skinner moved on, when he was gone for three years. Damon was locked up with limited options, Skinner was free. What if he didn’t want him anymore? Damon pushed the thoughts away. It was pathetic, his desperation to see him again. “Ramsay. Where are we going next?”

Ramsay didn't have the faintest idea, but he wasn't about to say that. Essos was east, so... He glanced eastward. "This way. Come on, and keep quiet, unless you want to be caught."

“Yeah, keep quiet.” Damon said, looking pointedly at Sour Alyn and Yellow Dick, who were still snickering over their stupid jokes. He followed after Ramsay.

They trekked in silence through back alleys, and on the outskirts of town, Sour Alyn hijacked a car from a lot. They drove for a while before ditching that car, and slunk through another town before stealing another car.

Soon enough- hours, maybe days later, they reached a small sea-side town. Damon watched Ramsay speak to some of the men, saw the looks of vague confusion in their eyes, and then slight fear. It didn’t take long before all four of them were boarding a boat- it wasn’t a very nice boat, it was rather cramped and dirty, but it was something. And it was free, and taking him to Skinner.

"Almost there," Ramsay said, giving Damon a knowing smirk. He turned his gaze out, staring out over the sea. Skinner and Ben, Grunt and Luton and the girls would have crossed this sea. The girls... Ramsay had spent every day of the past three years thinking of his girls, his sweet girls. Much as he knew Damon wanted to see Skinner again, he just wanted to see his girls. Most of all, he wanted to see Helicent.

Damon stared out at the sea. He should’ve been crossing it with Skinner, going on vacation, in a pretty cruise ship. Not crossing it in a shitty boat while fleeing from prison. There was a lump in his throat, and he swallowed it down.

Ramsay glanced over at him. Sympathy was easy, because he knew just what Damon was feeling. "Soon," he said quietly.

Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn were at the back of the boat. Sour Alyn leaned over the edge, trailing his fingers through the water's surface. Both seemed to marvel at the notion of being free again. Ramsay watched for a moment, before turning back to the front.

"Soon," he repeated.

“Soon.” Damon agreed. And then, “What if they’re not there?”

"They will be. There's only one place they could be in Essos, and that's where they would have gone. They have to be there." If they weren't there, then they were screwed. Ramsay would never see his girls again, and Damon wouldn't see Skinner again. He would have to listen to him whine about it for the rest of their lives.

“I hope so.” Damon replied. “I really, really hope so.”

When the boat finally docked on Essos, Damon was so sick of being on the water that stepping on land had him almost throwing up. He stumbled forward a few steps, grabbing onto Ramsay’s arm to stabilize himself. A few years ago, Ramsay would’ve smacked Damon and told him to stop being so touchy, but three years of sharing a cell built up his tolerance.

Instead, Ramsay caught him and helped him steady himself. Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn were clamboring from the boat on shaky legs, but neither one seemed to need or want assistance. They stumbled up the shore after Ramsay and Damon, and the four of them sat for a blessed minute.

"They'll be in the Free Cities," Ramsay said after a bout of silence. He glanced around, saw nobody nearby that could be eavesdropping, and said, "Probably Lorath, maybe Lys." The two cities were in opposite directions, though, and they had docked in Braavos. To go to the island of Lys would require another long voyage on a boat, whereas Lorath was another small island, but much nearer.

“I thought it was Lorath. Didn’t we discuss this once? Where to go if something went wrong?” Damon raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Ramsay said. "And Lys was the backup, unless they decided to go there for the prostitution ring. We're checking Lorath first."

Prostitution ring. Damon grimaced. Had Skinner paid prostitutes? Had he paid women to sleep with him? Damon had only slept with Ramsay in the past three years, and it was more for a distraction than any real sort of sexual gratification. Ramsay wasn’t a very considerate sexual partner.

“How are we getting there?”

"Another boat," Ramsay said. He glanced back; the boat they had taken was already on its way out. The man was staring at them, face slack and nervous. Ramsay had no doubt that he would be calling it in as soon as he thought he was safe. They had to get moving.

“Oh yes. There’s so many boats here, Ramsay, thank you for that fine answer.” Damon drawled. “I never knew Lorath was an island. Never seen a map before.”

"It's small, and relatively unknown." They stood, and Ramsay looked around for an available boat. News of them would not have reached Essos, not until the boatman called them in, and getting a boat from here should be easier. "It's the safest of the cities for us."

“Thank you, Ramsay, for literally repeating things to me that I already know.” Damon snapped. He was getting antsy, impatient, nervous.

"You can walk, if you're going to be a cunt," Ramsay retorted, severely annoyed. "We all want to get there, Damon, you're not the only one. You want Skinner, I want my girls, we're in the same situation. Get over yourself."

Damon glared at him. “I’m not being a cunt, you’re being a cunt.”

"You're both being cunts," Yellow Dick drawled. He and Sour Alyn exchanged smirks. "Can we wait and be cunts on a boat? I wanna get out of here."

“If you can find a fucking boat to bring us, be my guest. Maybe you two should swim- gods know it’d make you smell better.” Damon snapped.

"Fuck off," Sour Alyn yawned. Ramsay was stalking away. "You'll get Skinner's cock in you soon, don't worry."

“You’ll have a knife in you soon if you keep talking to me like that.” Damon retorted sharply, glaring at him.

"Hold off on that," Yellow Dick said. He was staring off to where Ramsay had gone. "Looks like we're in business."

Not too far away, Ramsay was talking quietly with the owner of a small boat. The boatman looked apprehensive, but Ramsay's face was friendly and open, and slowly yet surely the boatman let his guard down. He nodded. Ramsay glanced over at them, grinning, and waved them over.

Damon gave Yellow Dick a small shove before heading over to Ramsay and boarding the boat. The boatman was looking a bit more apprehensive now at the sight of all four of them, but nevertheless, they were all allowed on.

The boat ride was quiet and uneventful for a couple of hours. The boatman steered them in silence, and the four of them talked softly amongst themselves. Hours later, when the pale shores of Lorath were within view, Sour Alyn called out in excitement.

"Almost there, Ramsay! Damon, you're almost there!" he said with relish. The boatman stiffened, but didn't yet turn around. He listened.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Damon hissed, storming over to Sour Alyn. “Our names? You can’t fucking yell our names. We’re wanted fucking criminals, you shithead.”

The boatman turned around now. His bright eyes lingered on Ramsay, then Damon, and swept across the others whose names he did not know.

"Ramsay Bolton?" he said quietly. "From three years ago?"

Ramsay scowled. He stood and the little boat quivered with the force of his steps as he approached the boatman, who suddenly looked very afraid. The boatman opened his mouth, sputtering out pleas and swears of secrecy, but Ramsay took him by the scruff of his shirt and bashed his head against the metal edge of the boat. He fell limp, unconscious, and Ramsay heaved him overboard.

Damon eyed the man’s body in disgust as it began to sink, then looked up at Ramsay in annoyance. “A boat with no owner and a body at the bottom of the sea? That looks really good for us, thanks Rams.”

"Would you rather he announce us, when we dock?" Ramsay retorted. "We're close enough, and I can steer a boat well enough. For all the Lorathi know, this is our boat."

“Fine.” Damon snapped, taking a seat and remaining silent for the rest of the boat ride. Even when they docked, he didn’t speak, visibly annoyed with the other three.

Ramsay resolutely ignored him. Had it been anyone else, he may have hurt them for the insolence, but it was Damon. His oldest and closest friend, aside from his Heli. Furthermore, he understood where Damon was coming from. Aside from his girls, he hadn't stopped thinking of his pup. It killed him inside to know that while he lay in prison, his pup lay in the wolves' den, and more importantly, in the Young Wolf's bed.

The problem at hand was their lack of knowledge of where they might be hiding. If Ramsay had to guess, and he wasn't going to share this guess with Damon, he thought they may be in proximity to the scum of the city, where the prostitutes were plentiful. At the same time, they needed an area where they could take the dogs out and let them run like they were accustomed to.

“Well? Are we going to go somewhere, or just stand on the docks like idiots?” Damon huffed.

"Lead the fucking way," Ramsay snapped, giving him a flat look.

He glared back. “I don’t know where to go.”

"No? Then shut your mouth and be patient." Ramsay stormed ahead, leaving the boat behind, and the others followed. He had never been the Lorath before; how could Damon expect him to know where he was going?

Damon glared at Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn, as if it were all their fault, before storming after Ramsay. Lorath was fairly small, but still... it would be hard to find who they were looking for. Most likely. Then again, it would be hard to miss a house with nine dogs. “Are we gonna get a car?”

"We'd have to steal one, unless you have money. And if we're trying to lay low..." Ramsay shook his head. "They probably have one. We'll just have to walk." They crested a hill and Ramsay paused, gazing around. The south side of the city seemed to be more sprawling land and less heavy development. Down there were the small shops and houses. Down there was their greatest chance of finding them.

“I am not about to walk across a whole fucking island.” Damon snapped.

"Then sit here and wait," Ramsay snapped back. "We'll go find them, and maybe if I'm feeling generous I'll tell Skinner you made it out alive."

“Fuck you.” Damon grumbled, but followed after him without another complaint. It was a much longer walk than he would’ve wanted, but they were soon to the smaller side of the city. Damon was intrigued by all the little shops- not that he’d admit it, he didn’t need Ramsay being like ‘you whined about coming here and now you like it?’ No. He didn’t need that bullshit. The streets weren’t too busy either, and Damon could see a sign on a shop up ahead with a dog on it.

He jabbed Ramsay in the side. “Pet store. Wanna check?”

"Yeah. I can get something for the girls," Ramsay said. The group of them went into the pet shop, and it was fairly empty aside from them, the shopkeep, and an old man towards the back of the dog food aisle. Ramsay led them towards the dog treats, regretful over the doubtless fail of the girls' raw food diet, but it would be too hard to maintain here. Too expensive now, without his father's wallet.

Ramsay may not have noticed the old man much, but Damon did. He narrowed his eyes, watching the man, noting how his back hunched over just slightly. On a whim, he called out. “Hey. Ben.”

Ben Bones flinched, then whirled about. His dark eyes landed on the group of them in shock, and they stared back the same, Ramsay especially. After a moment, he recovered and grabbed up his twenty-pound bag of dog food, hobbling towards them.

"Don't call me that out here," he warned. "I go by Royce here." Then, he paused. "What are you all doing here? How did you...?"

"B— Royce." Ramsay stepped forward. "Take us home."

Damon nodded silently in agreement. Ben paid for the dog food and all four of them headed out to the car. It was small, and of course Ramsay took shotgun, so Damon was stuck sitting in the back middle seat with Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn.

“I’m going to smell horrible when I see Skinner.” He complained.

"You guys can shower together," Ramsay shrugged. Ben chuckled.

"Skinner's going by Donnel in public," he said. "Luton is Malon, and Grunt... Well, he doesn't go out. He mostly tends the farm. Besides, he can't speak and can hardly write, so we haven't bothered asking him." He glanced back at them through the rearview. "You'll all have to pick new names for public use."

“I sure as hell ain’t picking Donnel. What kind of bullshit name...” Damon grumbled, crossing his arms. “I don’t want some dumb shitty name.”

"Alyn is a common enough name," Sour Alyn said stubbornly.

"So is Ben," he replied coolly. "But I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"Arwan," Ramsay said after a moment of thinking. "But don't call me that when we're home."

Damon grinned at Ramsay. “Why didn’t you choose Robb?”

Ramsay turned and glowered at him, without actually answering him. He turned back front, watching out the window as Sour Alyn and Yellow Dick both snickered.

“Maybe I’ll go by Robb. Or Jon.” Damon said thoughtfully, purposely antagonizing Ramsay and earning more laughter from the men on either side of him.

"Edric," Yellow Dick decided, while Ramsay gnashed his teeth in silence. He couldn't wait until they got there, so Damon would stop being such a twat.

When Ramsay didn’t react, Damon went back to whining instead. “I don’t want a new name. My name fits me. I don’t want some ugly ass name.”

"Like Damon isn't an ugly ass name?" Sour Alyn jeered, seemingly forgetting that he also had protested.

Ben shook his head. While he still had numerous questions, too many questions, he was grateful at least to have the rest of the Boys back, squabbling like children in the backseat.

Damon actually slapped him, giving him a nasty look. “Your name is Sour Alyn because you smell like sour fucking beer and spoiled milk. Don’t talk to me about ugly ass names.”

"I'll be Brynden," Sour Alyn said, nursing his wounded cheek and pride. He'd bit his tongue with the blow, and it was bleeding.

"Just you left, Damon. Hurry up, only two minutes until we're there," Ben warned.

“Reginaldo Harold Albertson the Fifth.” Damon said coolly. “And I want the whole thing said. Every time.”

"I'm going to call you Karl," Ramsay decided, while Ben just laughed.

“Reginaldo. Harold. Albertson. The Fifth.” Damon snapped. “How much longer do we have to fucking drive?”

"I told you, two minutes. Now it's one," Ben said. They could see the farmhouse up ahead, a once-rundown building with stone siding. There were sprawling fields all around it, with new gardens planted and several cows standing in a pasture. Ramsay started laughing.

"You're actually farming?"

"Yeah," Ben said, glancing at him. "We prefer to keep to ourselves back here, and the more we can do for ourselves the better."

“Honk the horn!” Damon exclaimed, leaning over the front seat to slam his hand down on the center of the steering wheel. It honked, long and loud, and Ben had to smack his hand away. Luckily the car had only swerved a little, and Damon hoped the noise would be enough to attract Skinner outside to meet them.

Nobody came outside, though the curtains fluttered in a downstairs window. The car rumbled up the gravel driveway, and as soon as it parked, they all jumbled out. The side door was opening, and a familiar blond was stepping out, looking confused.

"Ben? Why'd you honk—"

Damon practically vaulted over Yellow Dick to get out of the car, stumbling across the yard and up the driveway, up to the blonde boy standing outside. He nearly tripped a couple of times. But before Skinner could even realize who it was lunging at him, “Skinner, oh Skinner, oh fuck-“ Damon threw his arms around him, tears prickling in his eyes. His heart ached and swelled and pounded in his chest, and he was sure it was trying to break free and touch Skinner. He wanted nothing more than his touch, and he couldn’t blame his heart for wanting it too.

"Damon!" Skinner cried. "What?" He stared past him, at Ramsay and the others coming out of the car. Ramsay smirked at him, and Skinner pulled away from Damon and grabbed his hand. Without a word, he pulled him inside, down halls and up a set of stairs, into a bedroom. Skinner slammed the door shut and shoved Damon against the wall.

"You had some fucking nerve," he spat. "How fucking dare you get yourself caught." He leaned in and crashed their lips together in a bruising kiss.

Damon groaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Skinner once again. He was crying, fucking crying, tears dripping down as cheeks as he laughed and looked into those gorgeous, cool green eyes. “Good to see you didn’t forget about me.”

"How could I?" Skinner stared into his eyes in disbelief. "I worried about you, I missed you for three years. Three godsdamned years."

“Three fucking years!” Damon agreed, smiling even as he cried. “Fuck, I’ve gone soft. I miss you. I missed you. I had to fuck Ramsay- do you know how desperate I had to be to fuck Ramsay?”

"You fucked Ramsay?" Skinner wrinkled his nose. "Gods, Damon, do I even want to touch you now?" He was joking, of course, and his hands never left Damon's waist.

“And how many whores did you fuck?” Damon didn’t even wait for an answer. “None as good as me. None as pretty as me. Fuck, I was so scared- I was so worried you’d find someone else- I’ve gone fucking soft, Skinner.”

"If you have, then so have I." Skinner kissed him again. "How many people did you kill in prison?" he murmured against his lips.

“Zero, dumbass. I didn’t want to worsen my sentence. Me, in solitary? Can you imagine?” Damon shoved Skinner toward the bed. It wasn’t their bed, wasn’t the same as back home, not as comfortable and familiar- but it was still nice. Looked nice, at least. He was about to find out if it felt nice. “I’ve missed you. They kept making fun of me for it- they don’t know. They don’t get it. They’ve never had you.” He kissed him again, edging closer to the bed until Skinner bumped back against it.

Skinner fell back, Damon falling on top of him, without breaking their kiss. They rolled, Skinner pushing Damon back onto the soft mattress, and his hands ran down his body. Damon had always been lean, but he was thin now, skinny from shitty prison food. Still, there was firm muscle under that skin, so unlike the soft and pretty whores that Skinner fucked that he groaned at the feel of it.

Damon moaned at the mere touch of Skinner’s hands, kissing him over and over. “They don’t get it,” He panted, lofted a leg to hook it over Skinner’s waist, to pull him down against it. “They don’t. I love you. They never could, they’ve never loved. I love you.”

"Ramsay loves his pup," Skinner said, but he didn't really want to talk about them, or think about them right now. He was tugging off Damon's shirt, running his hands over his naked chest. "But not like I love you."

“Say that again.” Damon gasped, squirming at the feeling of Skinner’s hands on his bare skin.

"I love you," Skinner murmured, lips brushing over the shell of Damon's ear so all he could hear were those words. "I'm in love with you, Damon."

Damon moaned, eyes half-lidded, before turning and leaning in to kiss Skinner. Hard. “I’m in love with you.” He repeated what Skinner had said to him. “Fuck, Skinner. I want you to fuck me. I want you to kiss me and fuck me and make me scream so loud that no one on this stupid island is able to sleep!”

"Oh, you don't even have to ask," Skinner growled, a predatory glint in his eyes as he yanked Damon's pants down, throwing them to the floor and hefting his legs up around his waist. "I love you, Damon, and I missed you. I'm never gonna let you go again."

* * *

"Take me to my girls," Ramsay demanded. He had been patient through a tour of the farmhouse, listened to Ben's explanations of what they had done these past three years, but he was itching to see his girls again. He was itching to see Helicent again. He wanted to stroke her, kiss her furry head and never leave her side again.

Ben laughed. "Of course, Ramsay. Come on then, follow me." Ben led him to a room he hadn't seen yet, adjacent to the door to outside. They went inside, and Ramsay was hit by booming barks and an avalanche of overjoyed mastiffs. In his cursory glance around the room, he noticed a huge window to the fields, and a door that would open to outside. Ramsay knelt on the wood floor, hugging dog after dog, petting and loving them, but something was wrong. He only counted eight, not nine. Ramsay stood abruptly.

"Where is she?" he demanded. All his girls were scrambling joyously around him, from the heavy, imposing Jez to the lean, pretty Kyra. Ben Bones looked slowly up at him, something dawning in his eyes that Ramsay didn't like one bit. He fixed him in a cold glare.

"Where is Helicent?"

Ben shook his withered head. "I'm sorry, Ramsay. She..." He shook his head again, seemingly at a loss for words. He turned and fetched something off a hook, something dreadfully familiar. "She got sick, you see? About a year ago. She got real sick." Ben turned back to face him, pity in those soulful brown eyes, but Ramsay's gaze had fallen to the object in Ben's hands.

"She didn't make it," Ben was saying, though Ramsay could hardly hear him through the roaring in his ears.

This couldn't be real. Ramsay stood still, staring at the collar in Ben's hands, slowly shaking his head. Not his girl. Not his Heli. She couldn't be...

She couldn't be gone.

There was an emptiness inside him. He had taken for her granted, assumed she would always be at his side, his faithful girl. Had never fathomed losing her, but now... Now what? What was he to do? His Heli... His sweet girl, good girl... Dead, and he had never even gotten to say goodbye. He had failed her as a master, as a companion.

Ben's wrinkled face was heavy with sympathy, and the old man took Ramsay's shaking hands and set the collar into them, closing Ramsay's fingers gently around the fabric. He stared down at it. Sure, it was a piece of comfort, or at least he supposed that was what it meant, but... Without her, it was meaningless. Just an empty loop of red fabric with black silk padding, pretty but useless. Nonetheless, he would take it, hang it in his room somewhere... If he could ever go home, that is.

His eyes were stinging and he turned away, lest Ben see him behave so shamefully, but the old man gazed knowingly upon him, and moved forward. Ramsay tensed, not wanting the empty, soothing words, not wanting the pat on the shoulder he knew he was going to get. He didn't. Ben moved past him, out of the room, and Ramsay was blessedly alone. He sank to his knees, clutching the collar, and tried to act as though there weren't hot tears streaming down his cheeks. He tried to pretend that horrifying numbness settling into his chest was normal, like the sick guilt tearing into his gut was irrelevant.

The other dogs crowded around him, licking at his face and arms and everywhere of him that they could reach. Their faces and eyes were deep, pleading, and he couldn't bear to look at them. Couldn't bear to look into their expectant eyes and disappoint them, like he had let down Helicent, and in a burst of implacable cruelty, he shoved them all away. One yipped in surprise, and they tripped over themselves running away. One let out a keening whine, and he could feel their curious, betrayed gazes on him. Guilt set in, hot in his gut, and he choked off a sob. He couldn't cry. He chanced a glance at his dogs, and sure enough they sat in a huddle of dark, rumpled fur and slowly wagging tails, staring longingly at him. He opened his stance somewhat, and they came bounding back, joyful once more, like their master had never snapped and shoved at them, had never disappeared to begin with.

There was nothing he loved quite like he loved his girls. He should have been there, shouldn't have gotten caught... His best girl had died alone, never knowing where he had gone?

No, this couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't believe it. Helicent wasn't gone.

But what other reason could there be to explain her absence? His faithful girl, with him from the very beginning, would never miss an opportunity to greet her master. She could only be...

He couldn't bear it any longer. He would rather still be rotting in prison then free, here without Heli. He never got to see her again, not since that night... A loud sob escaped him, and he buried his face into the ruff of Willow's fur, hoping to escape it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the boatman's backstory, view here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19845787


	3. Chapter 3

“Baby, wake up.” Theon purred, stroking his boyfriend- fiancé’s- hair, his soft pretty curls that shone in the light coming through the window. He had to leave for work soon, and Robb for class, and he wanted to spend time with him first. He hadn’t been to work since they got engaged- meaning his coworkers had yet to see the ring. It was gorgeous, tiny rows of diamonds all down the band, a big diamond in the middle, two little diamond flowers on either side... it sparkled like nothing he’d ever seen before. And it was from Robb. He admired it, stroking Robb’s hair with his other hand as he woke.

"Mmm...?" Robb turned over sleepily, pushing into Theon's touch. His own hand rose and touched Theon's chest, and he suppressed a yawn. He blinked his eyes open and focused slowly on Theon, taking in his soft smile. Robb smiled back, letting his head fall back against the pillow and staring into Theon's eyes. "Good morning," he murmured. "I love you."

“Morning, love.” Theon looked fondly down at him. “We’ve got to get up. The girls at work are going to freak out over the ring.” His face lit up just thinking about it.

"Don't wanna get up," he murmured, wrapping an arm around Theon and squeezing him close, nuzzled up against his chest. "Just lay with me, Thee."

Theon snorted, rolled his eyes. “We have to. I have work and you have class.” Despite what he said, he snuggled up closer, making a soft, happy sound. Robb was so warm, so cozy. He pressed his face to the nape of his neck, inhaling deeply. “You smell good.”

"I can skip. You can call out," Robb suggested, but there was no real drive in the words. He tilted his head, feeling Theon's lips on his skin, and let out a content sigh.

“I need all the girls to see my ring.” The girls and Tormund, that was. Theon nipped softly at Robb’s collarbone. “And don’t you want breakfast? We could go out. We still have time.”

"Alright," Robb sighed. He pushed his face to Theon's chest, relishing these last few moments, before sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a knuckle.

“My lazy lover.” Theon teased fondly, slowly getting out of bed. They got ready together, as always, and Theon insisted they wear matching white jeans. It was fashionable, he claimed. They still had a little over an hour to spare when they finally got into the car.

"Dav and Vos Diner?" Robb suggested, tapping the steering wheel. "Fast service, and it's close to your work. I'll drop you off before classes."

“Perfect.” Theon nodded, relaxing back in his seat. “Have I mentioned recently how much I love this wonderful man by the name of Robb Stark?”

"Mm, you may have mentioned it," Robb grinned. He reached over and took Theon's hand as they drove, running his thumb over the band of the ring. "I'm so glad you like it. My fiancé."

“I love it. A vending machine ring would’ve been fine, hell, you could’ve cut a hole in a bottle cap and used that- but I do prefer this.” He smiled at him, eyes full of love.

"The best for my Thee," Robb said, glowing. He squeezed his hand, and didn't let go until they were pulling into the diner parking lot.

“I have such a good fiancé.” Theon beamed, taking Robb’s hand again once out of the car. “So fucking handsome. Makes me wanna suck your dick right here.”

"Oh, if only we had more time. I could take you right in the backseat," Robb said with exaggerated suffering. "Only, I think you want to eat too, right?" He smacked Theon's ass playfully.

Theon made a weird noise between a groan and a whine. “Fuck, I wish. That calling out of work idea is starting to sound really good right now.” He joked.

"It's never too late," Robb said, holding the door open for Theon. They went in and were seated at a booth near the window overlooking the street.

“Wish I could order your ass for breakfa-“

Theon cut off, looking vaguely mortified as he realized the waitress was standing right there, looking rather uncomfortable. “Um. Could I get you two something to drink?”

“Just water.” Theon squeaked.

"Yeah, just water is fine," Robb replied, cheeks burning bright red. As the waitress walked away, Robb glanced at Theon, and started to laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me!” He exclaimed, but soon was laughing with Robb, smile wide on his face. “You saw she was there, didn’t you? Didn’t even warn me!”

"I didn't have a chance to!" Robb protested, still grinning. He snorted another laugh and dropped his head to the table. "I love you," he said fondly.

“I love you too. Rude ass.” Theon leaned down, kissing his forehead.

“Two waters.” The waitress returned, placing the glasses down and pulling out a notepad. “And what can I get the two of you to eat?”

"Thank you. Chocolate chip pancakes for me, please?" Robb said, and he looked over at Theon with a smirk.

“I’ll have the same thing, please.” Theon handed her the two menus, and she walked off back to the kitchen. Theon looked back to Robb. “What’re you smirking about?”

"I think she already knows what you want," Robb drawled playfully, reaching across the table to take Theon's hand.

“Don’t be dirty.” Theon grinned wide. “Your ass is always getting me in trouble.” He squeezed his hand.

"Yeah?" Robb chuckled. "Will you be thinking about it all during work? Cause I'll be thinking of you."

“I’m always thinking about it, you gorgeous fucker.” He grinned, then turned and thanked the waitress as she returned with their food- two plates of pancakes and a small glass pitcher of syrup.

"Thank you," Robb said, and the waitress smiled before walking away again. They dug in, clearing their plates and when they were leaving, Robb stopped Theon before they got into the car and he gave him a kiss.

“You gotta walk me in when you bring me to work. Everyone’s gonna freak. Jeyne is going to be so excited. Both Jeynes. And Tormund. And Irri and Jhiqui and Doreah. And Ros!” Theon’s eyes lit up and he looked down to his ring then back up to Robb.

"Of course I'll walk you in," Robb said. He took Theon's left hand and kissed his ring finger. Theon had gotten a prosthetic finger for his stub of a pinkie, and a cap for the missing fingertip of his ring finger. "I want to show you off."

“Then drive, you asshole.” Theon teased.

"Get in," he said, opening the door for him. Theon climbed in and Robb hopped in the driver's side. Theon's work was close, barely a five minute drive from the diner, and he parked on the street in front of it.

Theon grabbed Robb’s hand, standing to his right so the hand with the ring would be free, and practically dragged him into the Salon. It wasn’t huge, one floor with a few separated rooms- if they could be considered that, as they were all rather open. Jeyne Westerling looked up from the front desk and smiled at the sight of them.

“Jeyne!” Theon grinned at her. “Robb is just dropping me off.”

"Hey, Jeyne," Robb greeted. They had kept close after everything that happened.

"Hi!" She moved towards them, and her eyes caught the light glinting off Theon's ring. Her jaw dropped. "You— Oh my gods, you guys!"

“We’re engaged!” Theon exclaimed, hurrying up to her to show her the ring, dragging Robb along with him. His announcement attracted the attention of Irri and Jhiqui, who both came around to look at the ring and hug him in congrats.

"That's amazing!" Jeyne squealed. "The ring is so pretty! Are you guys gonna do engagement photos? You should!"

Robb glanced at Theon. "We could. Ygritte's a photographer."

“Of course we will!” Theon beamed, turning to give Robb a small, chaste kiss. “We’ll post them all over RavenOnline. I’ll bring in hard copies to show, too.”

“I am so happy for you!” Irri hugged him again, and then Jhiqui did the same.

A pair of muscled arms wrapped around Theon from behind and lifted him off the ground in a squeezing hug. “Congratulations, little squid," Tormund rumbled, grinning behind his beard.

Theon laughed, absolutely beside himself with joy, and squirmed as he was picked up. “Tormund!” He was beaming, eyes bright and smile wide. “Thank you!”

"Am I invited?" he asked gruffly, letting go of Theon to bearhug Robb next.

"Of course you are," Robb laughed, squirming in his grip.

Theon hugged Robb tight once Tormund put him down. “I love you, baby. Thanks for coming with me. You’ve got class now, do good, okay? Don’t fall asleep.”

"How could I fall asleep? I'll be thinking of you," he said, and kissed Theon on the nose. "Bye, Thee. I'll be back after my classes."

“Love you.” Theon said again, giving him one more kiss before fondly watching him leave. Once he was gone, he turned back to Jeyne Westerling. “Alright! Let’s get to work.”

* * *

"That's new," Dr. Varys noticed, nodding towards the ring. Theon sat opposite the therapist on a loveseat, hands folded in his lap. "When did you get engaged?"

“A few days ago.” Theon’s expression lit up at mention of the ring, and he lifted his hand to show it off. “Isn’t it beautiful? Robb surprised me with it.”

"It is beautiful," Varys said. He tilted his bald head, adjusting himself on his armchair. "Have you discussed a date?"

“Not yet. We have discussed some things, though. Queenie is going to be the flower girl, and Grey Wind the ring bearer!”

"Good." Varys nodded. "It might be wise for you to have a smaller ceremony..." The wedding was not his major concern, though, not now. Maybe later, when Theon was becoming stressed with planning. "What I wanted to ask, is how you're handling the news?"

“Smaller ceremony?” Theon’s expression slowly melted to one of worry and confusion. “Wait. What news?”

Varys paused. He gave Theon a quizzical look. "The news of the escape." Slowly, it dawned on him that Theon did not know, and Varys's expression grew solemn. "I see."

No. No, it couldn’t- he couldn’t- that didn’t make sense, there was no way... Theon’s eyes went wide with horror, and suddenly the scars on his body seemed to ache. No. Not Ramsay. It- no. There was no way, there couldn’t be, he was in for life, high security. No. Please no. Theon bit his lip, tugged at the skin on it.

“Who’s escape?”

"Ramsay Bolton," Varys said. "Damon Dance-For-Me... Yellow Dick? And Sour Alyn," he recited, watching Theon's face pale.

All traces of joy and excitement were gone.

“You- you’re kidding, right? Please. You’re kidding.”

"My apologies. I assumed you already knew," Varys said. He seemed uncomfortable, or as much as a well-put together man could be.

“Where- do they know where he is? Do they have any idea?” Theon’s hands trembled in his lap.

"They were last seen crossing the sea to Essos," Varys replied. "It's unlikely they'll be back."

It was a small relief. Small. “I- I can’t believe they escaped. They can’t have. I- they’re in for life. They can’t be free.”

"I am sorry, Theon." Varys set his papers on the end table. "They cannot hurt you from Essos, however. And the police are doing what they can do track them down." What they could do, Varys knew, was a pathetic sham of authority. If they were in Essos, hidden in the 'Free Cities', they were gone.

“Fuck.” Theon shook his head. “How am I supposed to- what do I do? How do I fucking sleep? They- they’re all free- what if they come back?”

"You and Robb have moved," Varys said. "He has no way of finding out where you are, and the moment he sets foot in Westeros again, he will be caught."

“He’s free.” Theon said softly. “I- I want Robb. I’m sorry. Can he come up? Please?”

Varys checked the clock. They were half an hour into their appointment already, and letting Robb come up would effectively end the session, but he could see his patient was too stressed to achieve much now. That was his own fault.

"Of course."

Theon nodded and hurried out of the room, down the hall, and down the stairs to the waiting room. “Robb,” He said softly when he got there, not wanting to alert anyone else. “Robb, can- can you come up?”

Robb stood up immediately. "Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?" he asked, as they hurried up the stairs.

Before they went back inside Varys’s room, Theon threw his arms around Robb in a tight hug. “They’re out.” He whispered.

"Who—" But the look on Theon's face was clue enough. Robb paled. "Bolton? And... They're all out? You're sure?"

Theon nodded slowly, not wanting to believe it himself. “All of them. In Essos.”

"Essos?" Robb relaxed somewhat. "That's so far... I can't see them coming back, not for anything. They'll just get caught again."

“They didn’t get caught when they escaped.” Theon looked at him, eyes wide and wet, before pulling him gently into Varys’s room.

Varys regarded them expressionlessly. Robb stared at him, then back at Theon. The pair of them sank down onto the loveseat together.

"When did they escape?" Robb asked finally.

"Three days ago," Varys replied.

"And they haven't caught them?" Robb demanded.

“They’re in Essos, remember?” Theon said softly, squeezing Robb’s hand.

"They still had to travel half the country," Robb said, shaking his head. Were the police really so incompetent all across Westeros? Then he felt guilty; the ones here, in Winterfell, had done their fair work during Theon's case.

“Baby...” Theon murmured, leaning his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Please.”

At Theon's touch, Robb settled down. He took Theon's hand, playing with the ring in what had become a habit. "I don't want him out, walking free," he said quietly. "I want him locked up, where he can't hurt you."

“I do too.” Theon replied softly, before turning back to Varys. “Thank you. For telling me. Warning me.”

Varys waved away the thanks. "I had thought you knew," he reminded him. He shuffled some papers, glanced at the clock again, and considered Theon. "I fear I have ruined our session."

Theon adjusted so instead of holding Robb’s hand, he was hugging his arm, keeping as close as he could. “I-it’s okay. We always have next week.” He offered a weak smile.

"Always next week," Varys agreed. He scribbled something down on the topmost paper. When he had finished, he walked them downstairs to the waiting room, and Robb and Theon left while Varys took in his next patient.

"It'll be okay," Robb said, trying to convince himself as much as Theon.

“I hope so.” Theon tightened his arms around Robb’s arm as they headed out of the office. “I really, really hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys we love feedback constructive or anything pls leave it thank u


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey. Wake up." Skinner pushed at Damon's shoulder. "Damon, wake up. I have something to show you." He waited a moment, then pushed at him again. "Damon, it's important."

Damon groaned, rolling over to push his face into Skinner’s lap, nuzzling his face against his groin. “I’m sleepy.” 

"Damon," he groaned. "I'm serious. This is important, you have to get up. I have a surprise for you." He knew Damon would get over the early hours once he saw the surprise, but getting him out of bed was always a challenge.

“But I’m sleepy.” Damon repeated, nosing at the bulge he found there. “Sleepy, Skinner.” 

"Seems like you're something else," Skinner muttered. He pushed at Damon's shoulder again and waited for barely a second before pushing him right out of bed and onto the hardwood floor.

Damon yelped, jumping up to his feet and glowering at Skinner. “I was tired and horny so you shoved me to the floor?” He’d gone three years without his regular morning ass pounding, and he wasn’t thrilled to being denied it now. 

"Yeah," he said, looking at him without a trace of guilt. "I told you, I have something to show you." Skinner swing his legs off the bed and stood, seizing yesterday's shirt from where he had slung it over a chair. He was dressed in boxers, and they would suffice as pants. Even in the mornings, Lorath was warm. "Come on," he said.

Damon huffed loudly, going to grab one of Skinner’s shirts from the closet to throw on over his silk briefs, stepping into a pair of flip flops. “Fine. What?” 

"Come on," Skinner said again, seizing Damon's wrist and leading him down the stairs and outside. They walked through the grass, leaving scuff trails through the dew, all the way to the little barn. Skinner slid the heavy wooden door open and pointed Damon inside. 

It smelled musty and like hay, but it was neat, with the floor swept clean and things set up on shelves. On the floor beneath one set of shelves was a cat with matted tortoiseshell fur and round amber eyes. At the cat's belly were several kittens, nursing eagerly.

Damon gasped softly, eyes going wide. Kittens. There were other cats in the barn, but this cat had kittens. He crept up, about to squat down by them when he noticed something squirming alone off to the side. The little squirming thing was squeaking, letting out tiny sounds, and Damon moved over to it instead, reaching out and very, very gently picking it up. 

It was a tiny thing, the littlest kitten he’d ever seen, it’s tiny mouth moving as if suckling, but with nothing to suckle at. It was so fucking small, couldn’t have been more than a few days old, her little eyes still shut- ears so tiny they were barely even there. 

“I- he’s a baby.” Damon whispered. 

"He's yours," Skinner said, watching as Damon cradled the kitten to his chest. It made a pitiful little sound and nestled its face into the soft fabric of Damon's shirt, searching for warmth and milk. "Congratulations. You're a dad, now."

“I am a mom.” Damon corrected, giving him a stern look. He gently stroked the kitten’s fur, expression softening as he looked down at it. “You hungry, little guy?” 

Skinner crouched, stroking the mama cat's head and under her chin. "Looks like that one wasn't nursing," he said. "Want to take him inside?"

“Yes. He needs milk. Yes he does.” He cooed, giving the kitten a very soft, gentle smooch. 

Skinner stood up, leaving the mama to her work, and stroked the little kitten's head with a gentle finger. "We'll have to run to the store later for kitten formula, but I think milk should be fine for now."

“Shh. You’ll wake him.” Damon hissed, giving him another stern look. 

"Wake him? He's not asleep," Skinner pointed out. The kitten was a squirmy little thing.

“Not with you talking all loud like that, he isn’t.” 

"You're talking just as loud as I am," Skinner said. The both of them were speaking in furiously hushed tones.

Damon shushed him again, hurrying into the house and into the kitchen to find milk. “Do you have an eyedropper?” He glanced over at Skinner, then back at the tiny, squirmy thing in his arms. “He’s hungry.” 

"Yeah, hang on," Skinner said, rifling through the cabinets in search of it. He produced an eyedropper after extensive search, the smallest one they had. "Here."

“Pour a cup of milk.” Damon ordered, earning himself a dirty look, but soon he had a cup of milk and an eyedropper and was going into the living room with Skinner, sitting on the couch on top of him and placing the cup on the coffee table. He filled the dropper, smiling down at the tiny kitten curled up against his chest. He moved the little thing into his left hand, using his right to hold the eye dropper up to the kitten’s tiny mouth. 

It suckled eagerly at the eyedropper, tiny paws kneading into Damon's skin. Skinner wrapped his arms around Damon, watching the kitten feast. It had to be just past six in the morning, and it felt like it was just the three of them in the whole house. It was quiet, not even the dogs making a peep in their room down the hall, and the animals outside were all quiet. It was quiet enough that they could hear the kitten's tiny purring.

“I love him.” Damon whispered, smiling warmly down at the kitten as if it were his own newborn child. 

"I love you," Skinner murmured. "I'm glad you're happy here. We like it... It's peaceful. We're safe." He closed his eyes, nuzzling into Damon's neck and sitting quiet while the kitten suckled.

“As long as Ramsay doesn’t decide to kill anyone here, that is.” Damon kept his voice soft, now that the kitten was settling down, its hungry suckling at the eyedropper slowing down. 

"I won't let him destroy this place for us," he promised. "I don't even want to go back to Westeros. There's nothing for us, there. There's nothing for us anywhere, unless we're together." He gave a mirthless chuckle. "Gods, that's so cheesy. It's never been easy, though, you know?"

“No. It never has been.” Damon agreed, watching as the kitten slowly stopped suckling. He placed the tiny thing on his own lap, watching it squirm around a little, pressing its body close to him and falling quickly asleep. His heart fluttered. “I’d stay in Essos forever, happily.” 

"Me too." Skinner kissed the soft skin of his neck and let out an easy sigh. "This can be easy, here. I like here." After a moment, he said, "This doesn't feel real. You being home, I mean."

“Better be real. I’d rather kill myself than fuck Ramsay again. And he was the best option.” Damon huffed, but his tone was playful. He smiled down at the kitten. “Hey. What do we name him?”

"I don't know. Are we sure it's a him?" Skinner asked, realizing neither of them had so much as checked.

“Yes. He is my son.” Damon answered firmly, but only seconds later, the tiny thing was squirming to change his position, flopping onto his back, and giving them a full view of the fact that he had no penis or balls. Damon looked at Skinner. “He is my son.” He repeated. 

Skinner stared at the kitten, then back at Damon. "You want a name?" he asked. "Stephanie."

“Stepha- for a cat?” Damon shrugged. “Okay. My son Stephanie. What a sweet little kitty.” He reached down and gave her bloated little belly a gentle poke, causing her to curl back up on her side. 

"She has milk belly," Skinner remarked, smirking. He poked at Damon's own belly. "You're too skinny, you know. Are you eating?"

Damon snickered. “Yes I’m eating. Apparently not as much as this little chunky.” He softly stroked a finger along her side, smile widening at the sight of her chunky belly. “Milk belly, huh? Did I feed him too much?” 

"No. I don't know." Skinner didn't know much about raising infant kittens. "She looks happy, so..."

“He does.” Damon was beaming, he couldn’t stop, not with the tiny bundle of fuzz in his lap, making tiny sleepy noises. 

"She," Skinner corrected absentmindedly. His legs were falling asleep with Damon in his lap, but he didn't dare ask Damon to move, not with the kitten in his lap. He had a fine view out the window from here, and could see the sunrise through the gap in the curtains. Everybody would be waking up soon.

“He.” Damon repeated, poking the pudgy belly of the kitten once again. “Such a chunky little thing.”

"She'll grow up to be fluffy," he said, stroking down tufts of fur on Stephanie's belly.

“Pudgy baby.” Damon cooed. 

“Who’s pudgy? What baby?” 

Damon turned to see Ramsay standing to the side of the room. “Me and Skinner’s son.” 

Ramsay approached. He stared down at the kitten. "That's a girl," he said after a moment. "Where did she come from?"

"The barn," Skinner replied. Ramsay nodded and crouched the pet the kitten.

Damon eyed him warily, as would a mother watching someone hold her firstborn child. “Be careful. He’s super tiny, and he’s got a little milk belly.” 

"I can see that," Ramsay said. He walked away and sat in a chair opposite them, looking morose. He had been miserable ever since they got here, but Skinner knew it was just because of Helicent. Or at least, that's what he thought.

"Did you know?" he asked abruptly. 

"What?" 

"The news." He spat the words like a curse, giving Skinner and Damon a hard look.

“Huh? The only news I’ve heard is that Skinner’s cock is even better after not having it for three years. And he looks hot working outside.” Damon smirked. 

Ramsay scowled. "The news about my pup." Skinner grimaced. Was Ramsay okay? How could they not have known about Heli...? Especially Skinner, who was here when she passed. "He's... engaged," he went on, looking as though the words tasted foul.

“Engaged?” Damon exclaimed, before giving Skinner a look. Why weren’t they getting engaged? Rude. He looked back at Ramsay. “To the Stark fucker?” 

"Yes. The Young Wolf!" Ramsay glared at the floor. Skinner almost felt bad for him; losing his favorite dog, then his pet? 

"How'd you find that out?"

"He posted it on RavenOnline," Ramsay replied.

Damon nudged Skinner, repeating, “Engaged?” He wanted a fucking diamond ring. “Do you have the post? I wanna see.” 

Stephanie stirred in his lap, squirming and stretching her tiny legs. She yawned, a tiny squeaky sound, and Damon let out what sounded like a sob as he watched. 

"Yeah," Ramsay said, pulling out his phone. He still had the post open, having just seen it before he came downstairs. It was a picture of their hands held together, Theon's finger bearing a pretty new ring. The caption read "of course I said yes <3" and the comments were a long list of congratulations.

“Wow.” Damon said, eyes wide as he looked at the photo. “That ring is gorgeous.” He elbowed Skinner again. 

"You want one?" he murmured. "I'll get ya one."

"It should have been from me," Ramsay growled. "He's mine."

Damon turned to grin wide at Skinner before turning back to Ramsay. “Well, to be fair. You did give him a ring. It’s not your fault he wanted one that wrapped around his finger instead of his throat.” 

"He was mine! He— He is. He's mine." Ramsay made a fist and stared at it. Skinner stared at him. He was tempted to say that clearly, the kid didn't feel the same, but he refrained. He didn't feel like being flayed today.

“Then go get him.” Damon answered simply, but regretted the words the second they were out of his mouth, the second he saw the look on Ramsay’s face. “Ramsay, no. I was joking. Find someone else. Some weird person who’s into getting tortured.” 

"Or don't," Skinner said helpfully. "I would like not to have to flee to yet another country because of your obsessions."

Ramsay tuned them out. He could, he thought. He could go back and get Theon right now, if he was careful enough.

“Ramsay, stop that. Stop thinking. We- you- can’t go back to Westeros.” Damon scolded, raising his voice. Stephanie squirmed in his lap. 

"We could!" Ramsay said, eyes bright and eager for the first time in days. "We would just... Have to be really careful. We could go, right now. Same way we came."

“Ramsay, no.” Damon snapped. “You can’t.” 

"Not by myself," he admitted grudgingly. "But... All of us. We all could go. It should have been all of us, last time. We would have gotten him."

“No. Skinner and I have a son, Ramsay.” Damon insisted, glaring at him. “A newborn son!”

"Daughter," Skinner said immediately. Ramsay rolled his eyes.

"Take her with us, then," he said. 

"Ramsay," Skinner said, "no. That's— That's insane. We're not going back to Westeros. Hells, we live here now. We have for three years, while you've been in prison for your own dumb mistake."

“You tell him, baby.” Damon turned, nuzzling his face against Skinner’s neck. “I don’t wanna go back to fucking him again.” 

Ramsay sneered at him. "We could all be happy if I just got my pup back. You two could fuck each other to death, if you want."

"Not quite that far," Skinner muttered.

“I like this house.” Damon whined, kissing Skinner’s neck, then nipping softly at the skin. Then biting, sucking, marking him with a hickey. “We’d be on the run if we went back to Westeros.” Another kiss, bite, mark. 

"We still have our safe houses," Ramsay pointed out. "They never found out about those. We could stay at one of those. Raise your kitten in peace while I get my pup."

Damon squirmed on Skinner’s lap, grinding his round, perfect ass against him, trying to get a reaction. “I don’t wanna go back to Westeros.” He whined. 

Skinner put his hands on his hips, holding him still. He nipped at his ear, warning him gently. He doubted anyone wanted to see him utterly wrecking Damon on the couch, and especially not in front of their kitten. 

"Damon," Ramsay said curtly. They glared at each other. "It doesn't have to be right now," he added begrudgingly.

“You’re the worst.” Damon huffed. “Skinner, where does our son go when we fuck? I want to fuck, since I have my boyfriend right here, and I did not go to jail for trying to kidnap him, nor did I get my friends in jail because of it.” 

"I can look after her," Ramsay offered. He was hands down a dog person, but he liked cats well enough too. 

"See? He can look after her. Godfather? Rams, do you want to be her godfather?" Skinner asked. Ramsay shrugged. 

"Sure."

Damon huffed again, not having gotten the reaction he wanted. He gave Ramsay a critical look. “You better take good care of my son, or I’ll skin you and feed you to him.” 

"Hey," Skinner cut in. "I do the skinning. Remember? It's my name."

"Don't worry," Ramsay scoffed. "I can handle a kitten."

“Okay...” Damon murmured, carefully handing the sleeping kitten over to Ramsay. “Skinner, bring me to the room. It’s time to go for a ride.”


	5. Chapter 5

The basement.

He was back in the basement.

It smelt of old piss and vomit, of dried blood and come, and he could feel the ache in his body of being hung by his wrists from the ceiling. He was wearing a muzzle again, but this one covered his whole face- solid black leather, with eye holes and a tiny slit in the snout area for breathing. The gorgeous kraken tattoo on his chest was gone, and Ramsay’s name was there again- pink, raw, and bloody.

Near his feet was a dog cage, and inside it, one of the corsos was curled up, the metal cage too small for her to stand or sit, or even properly lay down. He pitied her, but he couldn’t recognize her. She had blue eyes. Did any of Ramsay’s dogs have blue eyes? Such pretty blue eyes, deep and glimmering... just like Robb’s.

Suddenly, he realized the fur was auburn, not black- the fur was curly, and only atop the head- the dogs limbs had turned to naked ones belonging to a human, soft skin and muscles and...

It was Robb in the cage.

Theon thrashed, tried to shout, but every sound he made came out as a pathetic, horrible, keening whine. Robb, his Robb, crammed into a tiny cage. And the cage seemed to keep getting smaller, smaller, those blue eyes staring at him all the while, filled with fear and disgust and disappointment. The metal was cutting into Robb’s skin, slicing into it, digging into it, and yet he made not a single sound.

 _Please,_ Theon thought. _Please no. Not Robb. Me, hurt me, kill me, not him. He hasn’t done anything. Please. Not him. Not him. Not him._ He tried to scream the words he was thinking, but they still only came out as that horrible whine. He jerked, thrashed in his restraints, suddenly aware of the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. No. No- the door was opening, Ramsay was coming in, he was reaching for the cage- no- reaching for Theon. He tried to scream, thrashing, tears burning his skin as they trailed down his face. _No. Go away, let me go, let Robb go. Why was this happening? Why? Everything had been going so well._ He sobbed, and closed his eyes as Ramsay stepped closer...

"Theon!" Robb sat straight up and touched Theon's arm, and Theon's hand immediately shot out and latched onto him. "Thee, my Thee... Wake up, Thee, it's just a nightmare."

“No, no, I’m sorry...” Theon mumbled, eyes still shut as he pressed himself closer to Robb. He was trembling, crying- but he was in bed, his own bed, and Robb was holding him. His Robb, who smelled partly of that stupid soap he’d been using since middle school and partly of dog. He took a few deep breaths before opening his eyes, looking at his fiancé. “He had you- he had you, I don’t- they can’t. They can’t have you.”

He didn't even have to ask who 'he' was. Robb kissed his forehead with the utmost love and care. "He'll never get me. He'll never get you again, either. We're here, and he's not. We're together, and he's alone. We're stronger than he is, we're better."

“I’m scared. I’m- I’m scared. He’s out, he’s free.” Theon rambled. Queenie was woken by their talking, and climbed from her spot lying atop Grey Wind to plop herself down between them, squirming to fit in the small space.

"He won't touch us. I'll protect you," Robb said, "and you'll protect me. Right? We have each other's backs here."

“And Queenie will protect us both.” Theon joked weakly, with a wobbly smile.

"Queenie the Brave, first of her name!" Robb laughed, tickling the Pomeranian's little paws. "She'll protect us far better than we ever could."

Theon giggled, pulling her to his chest and away from Robb’s tickles. “She will. She’s a big, strong girl. Very scary.”

"Fierce. She'd tear Bolton's head right off, if he came," Robb said.

“She’s very scary. Very scary.” Theon giggled more as she tilted her head back to give him kisses. Grey Wind shifted from his spot at the end of the bed, squirming forward on his belly like a worm, trying to squeeze between them.

Robb scooted to make room for him, and the massive dog wiggled in between them. He gave a doggy grin, ecstatic to be included. He fell serious, though, gazing at Theon's face. "I promise you, we will be safe. Both of us."

Theon nodded, his smile fading as well, though he reached out to pet Grey Wind, his other hand stroking Queenie’s fur. “I feel safe with you. I do. I just can’t help being scared.”

"I know. It's not your fault, and I can't blame you. I don't. I'm afraid for you," Robb said. He reached a hand over the dogs to touch Theon's cheek. "I love you."

“I love you too. That’s why I’m going to marry you.” Theon nuzzled his face against his hand, a slight smile returning to his face.

"And I can't wait," Robb murmured. "Think you can try to go back to sleep? It's still early enough."

“Maybe if you give me a few kisses.” Theon teased gently.

"Mm, okay," Robb hummed, leaning carefully over the dogs to kiss Theon's forehead, nose, then lips.

“Love you.” He smiled, letting his head fall on the pillow and closing his eyes. “More kisses?”

Robb leaned up to follow, chasing his lips. The dogs wiggled between them. "I love you too," Robb murmured, kissing him.

“Mm, just like that.” Theon relaxed, muscles going slack. “Love you.” He repeated.

Robb whispered it back, pulling away from his kisses only when Theon's breathing had evened and he was asleep. He settled back against the mattress, watching his calmed face, while the dogs snuggled in. He was nervous too, of course, but he was relatively confident that they were safe. It was suicide for them to come back to Westeros now, so why should they? Even if Theon was here, and Ramsay still wanted him, Robb doubted that he was that daft. He closed his eyes and let himself drift back off.

* * *

When Theon woke again, it was to an empty bed. The door was open, however, and he could smell food cooking. He got up, throwing on one of Robb’s shirts that was just a bit big on him, just managing to cover his bare ass and cock. He walked out quietly to the kitchen, sneaking up behind his lover. Robb was facing the stove, cooking, as Theon wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. “Good morning, baby.”

"Good morning, Thee," Robb sang, grinning widely. "Did you sleep well?" Aside from the nightmare, he hoped it had been a fitful night for him. Just in case, he was making Theon's favorite pick-me-up breakfast, complete with mimosas set out on the table.

“Mhm. Missed you.” He grinded up against him, planting kisses along his jaw. “My beautiful fiancé. You spoil me.”

"Nothing I could ever do is spoiling you. You deserve all of this, and more," Robb said. He tipped his head into Theon's kisses.

“Softie,” Theon scoffed, teasing, eyeing the chocolate chip pancakes being made. “Those look good. Though I was hoping to eat something else this morning as well.”

"Yeah?" Robb flipped the pancakes and spun around, taking Theon by the hip. "And what was that?"

“Your sweet ass, that’s what.” He wiggled his eyebrows, reaching around to give said ass a playful squeeze.

"Ooh," Robb hummed. "Maybe after breakfast." He turned reluctantly back to the stove and pulled the pancakes off, sliding them onto a plate. "Which... Is ready right now!"

“You’re such an angel.” Theon moaned at the sight of the stack of pancakes, perfectly golden with gooey chocolate chips. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

"And I can't wait to marry you." Robb kissed his nose, before carrying the plate of pancakes off to the table. It was already set and waiting.

“You’d make a great housewife.” Theon teased as he sat down, putting three pancakes on his plate.

"I can't wait to be one," Robb said, laughing. "We'll take turns, right? You can do Tuesdays and Thursdays."

“And you can do Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday? Perfect.” Theon shoved a forkful of pancake into his mouth.

"We both do Saturday and Sunday," Robb said. "No work!" He lathered butter onto his pancake and poured a generous amount of syrup on.

“I work Saturdays sometimes!” Theon protested, pouring some syrup on as well and taking another mouthful of pancake.

"We'll figure it out," he said with a chuckle. "You won't get cheated out of us-time either, don't worry. I love you too much to do that to you."

“Us time.” Theon snickered. “I think I might die if deprived of your magnificent cock.”

"That would be a tragedy. We'll just have to avoid that, won't we?" Robb said while munching on pancake.

“Mhm. We must.” Theon agreed, sipping his mimosa. “We must ensure it doesn’t happen by taking care of it after breakfast.”

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Robb said. He poked at his pancake, but his eyes lingered on Theon.

“Quit looking at me like I’m the breakfast.” Theon joked, snorting and rolling his eyes, though his gaze lingered on Robb as well.

"You may as well be," Robb said, but he tore his eyes away and glanced down at his half-empty plate.

“No. I’m dessert.” Theon took a few more bites of pancake.

"I've never had dessert after breakfast before," Robb said, now making it his mission to eat his pancakes as fast as possible.

“Hey. Don’t rush.” He laughed, though he was eating faster as well. “I’m eating your ass first. You’ll have to wait your turn.”

Robb faked a pout, but couldn't hold back his smile. After a minute, he was clearing the last of his pancake off the plate, and stood to carry it to the sink.

Theon finished just a few moments later and followed over to the sink, tossing his plate inside. “I want you bent over the counter with those pants down.” He teased.

"Yeah?" Robb lowered his hands to the button of his jeans, slowly undoing them. He wiggled them down over his hips, and they fell to the floor.

Theon growled softly, reaching out to pull Robb’s boxers down as well before gently placing a hand on his back, pushing him so he was bent over. He knelt down behind him, playfully biting his ass cheek, sucking, leaving a hickey.

Robb glanced back over his shoulder, watching what Theon was doing. He bit his lip, spreading his legs a little further apart for him.

“Mm, yes.” Theon murmured, grinning at the sight, leaning in to prod his tongue against Robb’s pretty little hole.

Robb made a soft sound. It always felt weird when Theon started. "How about you fuck me, today?" Robb asked.

Theon moaned, the sound causing vibrations against Robb’s skin. “Fuck. Yes please.”

Robb lowered his head, leaning his forehead against his arms on the countertop. Theon's hands on his ass, his lips on him...

“Love you. Love this ass. This perfect, round ass.” Theon groaned, dragging his tongue flat over his hole.

"I love you, and your fucking tongue... Gods, what did I do to deserve you, Thee?" Robb murmured.

“Could ask you the same.” Theon did it again before prodding at the hole with his tongue, slowly pushing it in, moaning at how tight he was.

"Thee," Robb whined, pushing his hips back. "Can't wait for you to fuck me, right here."

“Mm, yes. Fuck.” Theon hissed, lifting three fingers to his mouth, getting them wet before pushing one inside of Robb.

Robb groaned softly at the intrusion, lowering his own hands to spread himself apart, showing off more of his hole for Theon, and hoping for another finger.

“I’m a bad influence. You’re becoming as much of a slut as I am.” Theon teased. He rubbed a second finger alongside the first, slowly pushing it in as well, his tongue tracing around them.

"I can't help being eager," he whined. "You're teasing me. You know I can take more, Thee."

“Mm, I do.” Theon twisted and scissored his fingers a bit before adding a third, groaning softly at the sight of Robb stretching around them.

Robb bit his lip, pushing impatiently against him again. It had been a while, since Theon had fucked him, and he was eager for it.

“Needy.” Theon chided, pushing the fingers in deeper, twisting and prodding and searching.

"Want you to fuck me already," Robb said, hips jerking when Theon's fingers brushed his prostate.

“Needy!” He repeated, his free hand giving Robb’s ass a playful smack, but he was soon withdrawing his fingers and taking off his shirt, under which he wore nothing. He spit in his hand, slicking up his cock with it before lining it up with Robb’s hole.

"Come on, Thee," he hissed, letting go of himself and holding onto the counter again. "I'm needy, so fuck me already."

“I love you, you slut.” Theon teased, voice thick with affection. He began slowly pushing in, groaning at how tight Robb felt as he stretched around him.

"Love you too, Thee," Robb murmured, forehead pressed against his forearms, hands squeezed to fists. "Fuck..."

“So tight, so hot, fuck,” Theon’s voice cracked as he pushed in all the way, buried to the hilt inside him.

"You're big, Thee," Robb groaned, grinding his hips back. "Come on, fuck me."

“Already?” Theon gasped sharply as Robb ground against him, and slowly began to pull out, waiting until only the head was still inside before thrusting in once again.

"Yes, already," Robb hissed, biting at his lip. He moaned softly as Theon thrust back in. "You're teasing me, Thee. I can handle it. I'm okay."

“Maybe I like teasing,” Theon said, but began to pick up a slow pace, thrusting deep and unhurried into Robb.

"Yes, fuck... Like that, Thee," Robb groaned. He didn't mind the slow pace, not with those deliciously deep thrusts that just grazed his prostate.

“Feel so good.” He sped up, unable to help himself, chasing after the brilliant feeling of Robb so tight and hot around his cock, hunting for those sweet sounds his lover made at each inward thrust.

"I fucking love you... Love your cock in me..." All Robb could think was that they should do it like this more often, with Theon driving hard into him. He moaned again as Theon thrust against his prostate.

Theon moaned obscenely loud, the sound of Robb talking so filthily sending a jolt of arousal through him. “Love you all fucking hot and tight around me.” He hissed.

"Gods, I'm going to marry you," Robb murmured, arching his back and grinding against Theon's cock, thrusting into him. Hot pleasure coursed through him, every thrust hitting his prostate.

“Yes, fuck, yes, my husband, perfect, fuck-“ Theon groaned, losing it at the way Robb ground back against him, how he clenched tighter with each thrust, and then he was coming, hips stilling as he buried himself inside him.

"Theon," Robb whined, his cock throbbing desperately. He lowered a hand to it and stroked himself with a fierce need, clenched tight around Theon's softening cock. He came into his fist within seconds.

Theon gasped and whispered at the feeling of Robb clenching around him, his cock sensitive after his orgasm, but Robb sounded so pretty when he came that it twitched weakly. He waited for Robb to come down from his orgasm before carefully pulling out, reaching to wrap his arms around him as he straightened up, hugging him snugly from behind.

“Love you so much.” Theon murmured.

Robb wiggled and turned in Theon's arms so he could kiss him. "I love you too, my perfect Thee. My fiancé." He could feel Theon's cum dripping from him, down his inner thigh.

Theon kissed him back, smiling brightly at him, his eyes still a bit hazy with lust. “You’re the perfect one. So pretty.” He purred, poking playfully at Robb’s side.

"Oh, Thee..." Robb nuzzled against his cheek. "What did I do to deserve you?" He wrapped his arms around Theon and hugged him close.

“Oh hush.” He sighed happily, basking in Robb’s body heat. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

"We're both just lucky then, hm?" Robb kissed his neck and moved to scoop Theon up into his arms. Leaving the dishes in the sink, he carried him back off to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love feedback,,, we would love feedback,,, constructive or whatever pls let us know what u think if u want -m


	6. Chapter 6

It had devolved into an obsession. With the loss of Helicent, Ramsay had little else to focus his energy on than his little pet, Theon. Every day was agonizing, knowing that he was with the Young Wolf. Engaged, now. He had seen the engagement photos online, and he burned with jealousy. He wanted him back, needed him back. Theon was his to have. His to keep, to fuck, and to marry. For the countless time in three years, Ramsay wished that they had never hunted Theon. They could have been safe, and he would have had him still. 

The little voice of reason in his head, sounding eerily like Skinner, pointed out that they would have gotten caught anyways. The Starks knew, at least, and the Starks had power. They would have been caught eventually, regardless. But he would have had that precious extra time with his pet.

They should have run away sooner. Should have come to Essos, with his pet, and they could have stayed here in this farmhouse and lived and been happy. If only his pet had behaved. His pet was a bad pup, always so defiant and misbehaving. Naughty pup. 

But he was still his, and Ramsay missed him. Seven hells, he loved the whelp. And he wanted him back. How dare the Wolf take him from him? How dare the Wolf take away Ramsay's and put his own brand on him? He had seen the picture of the tattoo, too. Fresh after his sentencing. Remembering that made Ramsay's blood boil. Now, there was a ring on Theon's finger when there had once been a chain, a collar, a necklace around his neck. Ramsay almost missed the garnet blooddrop necklace; he had stolen it from his mother, years and years ago now, and used it to mark his toys when he had them. Theon had been his eighth, and ultimately his last. There would never be another one after Theon, not now that he had fallen in love with him. He was almost ashamed at the mere thought: He, Ramsay Bolton, in love? But he had had three years to dwell on it, and besides that, it was clear that even Skinner and Damon had moved far beyond their fuckbuddy fling and had fallen for each other as well. 

They were together even now, sitting on the loveseat in the living room, quiet in each other's company, so disgustingly in love. Ramsay hated it, wanted to hate them, but he was jealous. Jealous. More than anything, he hated that he was jealous, especially of them. And the Wolf, always the thieving Wolf. Theon was his, but that didn't matter to the thieving Wolf. What the Young Wolf wanted, the Young Wolf got. Ramsay hated him most of all. 

So he couldn't help but dwell too on the idea of getting him back. Theon was his, after all. No tattoo could ever peel that name from his flesh, and as long as it was there, as long as Ramsay was alive, Theon was claimed. His to take and have as he pleased. 

Something his father once said to him echoed in his head, but Ramsay pushed it away with a vengeance. Theon did love him, he was always saying it. So what if Theon had stood against him in the trial? That was all the Starks' cruel influence, more thieving wolves here to steal his pet. Hells, his pet was probably missing him right now, despite where he must lay in the Wolf's arms. He loved Theon, and Theon loved him. 

"He loves me," he said to himself, voice soft yet strong in the empty kitchen. "He loves me. I know he does."

“What was that, Rams?” Damon called from the living room. He was stretched out on the loveseat, legs draped over Skinner’s lap, Stephanie resting happily on his own. His happy little fur ball kitten was doing so well. 

"He loves me," Ramsay repeated, rising from his chair at the table. He walked into the living room, stepping over the kitten gamboling on the rug, and sat down in the armchair. Skinner and Damon were both looking at him. "He loves me, but he's with the Wolf." Skinner looked at him as though to say, 'Really? You're on this again?' but Ramsay ignored him.

“I don’t think so.” Damon replied, smiling down at his kitten, gently stroking her soft fur. “I think he hates you, actually.”

"No, he doesn't," Ramsay said. "He was confused, during the trial. The lawyer and the Starks confused him." 

Feeling neglected, Jez stood up from her own spot on the rug by Damon's feet and padded over to Ramsay, pressing her nose to his hand. He stroked her absentmindedly.

“Eh. Wrong.” Damon seemed happy as a clam, not even looking at Ramsay as he spoke. “He’s engaged. Find someone else. Or, even better, don’t.” 

Ramsay scowled. "Don't you want to get your revenge on them? They locked you up for three years," he snapped. Skinner stiffened, now listening intently.

“Yea, but I don’t want to get locked up again for more.” Damon snapped, finally shifting his gaze up from little Steph to look at Ramsay. “I’m not risking my ass so you can fuck his.” 

"We won't get locked up!" Ramsay insisted. "That could only happen if we get caught, and we won't! They don't know where the safehouses are! We could take him to any one of them— Hells, we could take him to the one in Dorne! We just need to think about it carefully, this time!"

Damon sat up a bit, wiggling himself over so his butt was on Skinner’s lap, snuggling up against him and resting his head on his shoulder. Stephanie shifted and meowed on his lap, readjusting herself as well. “I don’t wanna risk it.” He leaned in, placing a few soft kisses along Skinner’s jaw. 

"Damon. Please," Ramsay tried. He never begged for anything. "I can't do this without you guys."

"Damon," Skinner murmured. "I think we should. We can be careful enough... Besides, there's things I want to get from the old house."

Damon whined, squirming a little, rubbing his ass against Skinner’s crotch. “But Skinner...” 

"Damon." He put his hands on Damon's hips, stilling him. "I want to punish him, for taking you away."

At that, Damon’s expression darkened, and the playful gleam in his eyes died down a bit. He had a point. Ramsay wanted his lover back, but Skinner wanted to hurt Theon for the pain he’d caused them. The separation. “Fine.” He decided. “We’ll go to Westeros.”

Ramsay's face split into a massive grin. "Good." He stood up and paced eagerly, Jez padding at his heels. "We'll have to leave as soon as possible. Before they get married, at least. But not too soon. We don't want to leave before we're ready."

“No. I would like to get laid a few more times before we sail across the sea to risk our asses for some ugly pup of yours.” Damon agreed, leaning in to suck a hickey onto Skinner’s neck. 

"You have all the time you need for that," Ramsay dismissed, leaving them to it. He went down the hall, Jez still following. The other Boys had settled in well, he observed, even the two he had escaped with. He could see them now through the hallway windows, working in the gardens or feeding the cows. He was jealous of that, too. He knew some of them, like Grunt, had come from farming families, so this must feel like home to them. It would never be home to him. 

That was another reason he wanted to go back to Westeros. There was no place for him here, no place for even his pseudonym 'Arwan', a name he had hardly had to use. He had only left the farmhouse a handful of times in the scant weeks he had been here. Hopefully soon, he would be leaving for good. They all would. They could all go home. 

Ben Bones was in the dogs' room, as per usual, tending the girls. Their bowls were scrubbed clean and sparkling, filled with fresh water and the best kibble they could afford. Still, Ramsay eyed it with distaste. His girls had always been fed a raw diet, and he loathed the fact that they could no longer afford it. Jez nudged past him, however, and went right to her bowl, digging into her lunch. Ben straightened up, Kyra leaping at his side, and stared at him in surprise. Ramsay couldn't blame him; he hadn't been in here in a while, still too sore over Helicent's absence. That had destroyed him. This too, was going to destroy him.

"Hey," he said. "We're going to be going back to Westeros. Not sure when, but..." Ramsay dropped to his knees, greeting his girls as they dashed over to him. "We'll be in a safehouse. We can't take them with us. It's not safe, and it wouldn't be fair to them. Will you stay here, with them?”

Ben looked up at him, the look in his eyes almost sad, disappointed. “Of course I will, Ramsay. They’re my girls, too.” He gave Red Jeyne, the dog closest to him, a soft pat on the back. 

Ramsay nodded, dipping down to kiss Willow's forehead as she came close. Her tail wagged frantically. "I don't want to leave them," he said thickly. "Please, keep them safe."

“I will. Keep yourself safe, too, whenever you go.” Ben offered him a somewhat-warm smile. 

"Yeah, of course." Ramsay glanced up at him, blinking the moisture from his eyes. Grey Jeyne licked his cheek, and he wrapped his arms around her. "I'll send for you, if we find a place where we can take them. Okay?"

“Okay. But I can’t get nine dogs across the ocean by myself. I had Grunt, Skinner, and Luton before.” He sighed, looking at the man who was a young boy compared to him. “You’re not going back for that lad Theon, are you?” 

Ramsay looked at him, as close to helpless as he'd ever felt. This man, the grandfather he had never had, closer even to father to him than Roose ever was... "I love him, Ben. I have to go back. I need him."

“But does he love you, Ramsay?” Ben asked, stroking Red Jeyne’s soft fur. “Is it worth the risk? Worth leaving the girls again?” 

"Every second away from him, knowing that he's with Robb Stark— It hurts," he hissed. "It's killing me, Ben. I can't... I..." He ducked his head down, chewing at his lip. Sweet Kyra nosed her way through, licking his face.

“I hope you end up alright. You and whichever boys go with you.” Ben sighed. “I always worried you’d get in trouble someday.” 

"I know better, now. No more hunting. I'm going for Theon, and we'll find someplace safe to live. We'll lay low." He paused for a moment. "I'll leave some of them with you. Grunt, at least. To help."

“Ah, Grunt. I’ll have someone to converse with when I’m lonely then.” Ben let out a small, soft laugh, shaking his head. “Your girls will miss you.” 

Ramsay snorted. "Yes... I'll miss them too. Who— Who else do you want, to stay? Sour Alyn? Luton? Yellow Dick?"

“No chance of Damon or Skinner, eh?” He cracked a smile. “I get stuck with the one who can’t talk, the two who don’t understand hygiene, or the one who never stops talking about his fucking mom.” 

"I need them with me... You understand, Ben, don't you?" Ramsay grinned playfully. "Besides, they're not so bad. If it rains, just send Sour Alyn outside."

He laughed, hearty and genuine this time. “He doesn’t brush his teeth, that’s his problem. Yellow Dick is the one who won’t take a damn shower.”

Ramsay's face fell somewhat. "Right..." How had he forgotten? After three years in prison, they had both begun to reek— worse than his pup ever had.

“Though I do suppose Skinner and Damon wouldn’t be much help. Ever since you boys have come back, Skinner has been useless around the farm. Damon won’t let him out of his sight.” He smiled fondly, shaking his head. 

"They love each other," he drawled mockingly, ignoring the fact that it made him a hypocrite. "I don't imagine I'll have much fun with them either, don't worry." 

“I found them fucking in my barn the other day. In the barn! In the hay! They’re causing me more trouble than they are helping me.” 

Ramsay laughed. "They're wild! Looks like I'll have my hands full, then." He sat back, and Kyra squirmed into his lap. She had gotten so big, a strong girl of four now. He loved her, loved them all fiercely

“She’s a good girl.” Ben reached down, ruffling her fur. “She’s gotten big. She’s built just like Helicent.” His smile softened, faded a bit. “They all missed you so much.”

"I missed them." He was silent for a long moment. "I don't want to leave them, Ben. I really don't."

“They can’t go with you. It’s not safe, not fair. I’m sorry Ramsay.” He let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “You can change your mind at any time, and just stay here.” 

"I know." He have a rueful smile. "I don't want to be here, Ben. I don't belong here. I'm not happy, not without my Heli, or my Theon." He stroked Kyra's side. "I want to be, but..."

Ben nodded. “When you get Theon again...” When, not if, he said purposely. “Maybe be gentler with him this time.” 

"Yeah," Ramsay agreed. "I'll just... Fetch him, when the Wolf is away, and I'll help him realize that I'm better. He loves me still, I know he does."

“I hope it goes better for you this time.” Ben gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. “I hope you’re right.” 

"I trust I will be," Ramsay said. "He was easy the first time. It should be easier still, now that he knows."

“He’ll have more people after him this time, you know. People who know something is wrong.” 

"We'll take him far enough away," he said. "They won't know where to look. By the time they have the police searching, we'll be far away. Dorne, maybe. Or here." Here wasn't where he wanted to be, but... His girls. 

It didn't matter right now. The decision didn't have to be made yet. Ramsay stood, thanked Ben, and retreated to his room, Kyra now trotting at his side. Of all his girls, she reminded him the most of Theon. Plus, Ben was right. She was growing to look like his Heli, the image only broken by the pink collar around her neck and the splash of white on her chest. She was a good girl. Kyra hopped on the bed beside him and lay on his chest, content with her master. The guilt worsened in Ramsay's gut; soon, he would be leaving her. He would be leaving all of them. He didn't want to, but... He had to put them first. They were safer here, and besides. He needed his pet. Only then, with Theon back at his side, could Ramsay be happy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, please tell us what you think! A very very (Very) small percentage of our readers leave feedback, and we’d really like to know what you guys think! -m


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pubbies.

After a lengthy phone conversation with Ygritte during which Theon barely got a word in, he hung up the phone, looking pale as a ghost. He turned to Robb, looking shocked and vaguely terrified. 

“Ghost has a girlfriend,” He said, and before letting Robb respond, “He got her pregnant! Ygritte called Ghost a ‘stud’ and apparently the female wolf is in labor. He got his girlfriend pregnant! I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend!” 

"She called Ghost a stud?" Robb asked, sitting up straight. "Ghost is having puppies? How come Jon didn't tell me?" He looked hurt by this, and felt deeply betrayed, but he stood nonetheless and grabbed his jacket off the end of the bed. "Come on, then. We should go over. I want to see the babies."

“How come no one told me?” Theon exclaimed. “We need to go fast. She’s in labor. Fuck, Ghost is gathering bastard children! Jon is probably so upset!” He hurried to throw on a hoodie- one of Robb’s, of course- and ran after him out to the car, along with Grey Wind and Queenie. 

They sped off down the road to Jon and Ygritte's house, and no sooner had Robb parked the car than Theon was shoving the door open. They both charged up the garden path to the door, and Robb pounded on the door. 

Tormund opened it and a grin split his face. "Here for the puppies? They're in the back garden," he said, happy as a clam. Robb figured he knew he was bound to get his own puppy out of it.

“Where’s that sneaky boy?” Theon exclaimed, running past Tormund to get to the backyard. “Jon! Why didn’t you tell me Ghost had a girlfr- oh.” 

He shut up when he saw them, Ghost standing protectively near the mama, a gorgeous grey wolf with numerous squirmy little puppies nursing at her belly. She looked tired, poor thing, but was watching carefully over her babies. 

“Jon didn’t know.” Ygritte walked up next to him. “He’s having a bit of a meltdown, actually.” 

"Is he?" Robb chuckled. He dropped to his knees beside the mother, stretching his hand out for her to sniff. Grey Wind padded up alongside him, head lowered respectfully. The mother wolf sniffed Robb's hand, then Grey Wind's face, and she lay her head back down in the grass. 

"She was raised at the sanctuary, so she's pretty human-friendly," Ygritte said cheerily, sitting right down next to her. 

"And Ghost-friendly," Robb joked. He reached out and stroked the nearest puppy, a little black and gray thing, with the tip of his finger. The mama eyed his every movement. 

Queenie happily trotted right over, standing beside Grey Wind, then running to Ghost once she spotted him. She began jumping at him, batting at him with her paws till he gave out a little doggie sigh and laid down. She then climbed atop his back. 

Theon laughed, eyes bright, but quieted himself as he knelt beside Robb, also reaching out for the mama to sniff him. She eyed his hand, then his face, sniffing and giving his hand a tiny lick. He practically lit up with joy and reached to very softly, very gently pet one of the puppies. 

"They're so tiny," Robb breathed in awe. "Gods, were ours ever this tiny?" They had gotten their wolfdogs at five weeks, but these puppies? Gods... And they would grow to the size of Grey Wind, and Ghost, and their beautiful mama. 

Grey Wind lowered to his belly, crawling forward and nosing at a little gray pup. The pup squeaked and squirmed, burrowing into his mama's belly.

Theon almost squealed, gasping softly instead at the puppy’s tiny noises. It seemed to set off the others, and soon all five- ten- eleven?- puppies were squeaking as they nursed. The sounds were so cute that he could’ve cried. 

Ghost paced around them, nosing at his babies. He pushed the runt in closer, nudging towards a nipple to latch and nurse, and Robb smiled at the sight. Ghost himself had been the runt, and now he was a father. Where was Jon? Robb glanced around, but he was nowhere to be seen. Ygritte didn't seem concerned; she was kneeled in the grass, stroking the mama's furry neck.

Queenie had apparently climbed off of ghost and was now trotting over to plop on Theon’s lap, happily curling up into a ball. He smiled down at her. He remembered when she was a puppy. 

The door to the house opened and shut, and Jon came storming out. His hair was a wild, tangled mess to rival Tormund's, clear evidence that he had been ruffling it back in stress. "They can't be his! Ghost— Wolf bastards! I mean— Oh, hi Robb, hi Theon..." He plopped down in the grass beside Ygritte, staring in bewilderment at Ghost, the mama, and the puppies. Ghost looked up, giving Jon a sort of sheepish look. "Is there such thing as doggie DNA tests?" Jon asked desperately.

Theon snorted, trying to keep it quiet so as to not disturb the new family. “Jon- they- all puppies are bastards, dogs don’t get married!” He wheezed, trying not to laugh. 

“We don’t need a DNA test. I saw them fuck.” Ygritte gave the mama an affectionate pat on the head. 

"You watched them?" Jon spluttered. "Gods, I leave you with him for one day— Why didn't you stop him? I'm not ready for grandpuppies!" Robb was laughing, tears springing to his eyes, and Jon was just about beside himself.

“I figured Ghost would tell you himself when he was ready.” Ygritte said with a shrug and a wicked little grin. Theon turned to hide his face in the nape of Robb’s neck, muffling his laughter. 

"Naughty boy," Jon whispered, reaching out for Ghost. The wolfdog padded over to him, pressing his face against Jon's chest. "You had to knock up Orella? Naughty boy, Ghost." Still, he stroked and hugged him, and Ghost licked Jon's hand.

“He’s a daddy now.” Theon gasped once he was able to breath, eyes wet from laughing so hard. “And you’ve got bastard grandbabies.”

"Stop," Jon snapped. He held Ghost close. Robb's smile dropped; it was still a sensitive topic for him? Ygritte stopped smiling as well, and she turned to look at Jon with slight worry.

Theon’s smiled also dropped, and he felt guilt beginning to pool in the pit of his stomach. Fuck. He had to fuck up. He was always fucking things up, wasn’t he? “Jon...” 

Jon looked at him. He paused for a moment. "It's fine," he said, recognizing that look in Theon's eyes. With a rueful look, he added, "We're just a family of bastards. Right, Ghost?"

Theon winced. Well. It quite obviously wasn’t fine. “If it helps, I’m technically an orphan?” He tried, wincing again at his own poor attempt to make things feel less tense. 

"Me too, for all I know," Jon said, laughing. He sobered quickly. "No, that doesn't help, Theon. I mean it. It's fine."

“Okay.” Theon shrugged a little, still feeling guilty, but put on a little smile and turned back to the tiny, squeaky puppies. He reached out to gently pet the runt of the litter. 

Glad to be free of the awkward atmosphere, Robb patted Grey Wind's head and leaned to kiss Theon on the cheek. Jon and Ygritte took each other's hands. 

"What are you going to do with them?" Robb asked. 

Jon shrugged. "Tormund and Mance want one," he said. "I don't know about the others. I don't want to send them all back to the sanctuary, but the mother is going back once the pups are a bit older."

“Robb...” Theon turned to his fiancé, jutting out his lower lip just slightly, eyes wide. Pleading. “Robb. Robb. Robb.” 

"Theon," Robb said, knowing already. He pointed to Grey Wind and Queenie. "We have enough. We're not home enough for a puppy right now."

He huffed, knowing Robb was right, but still... they were all so tiny and squeaky, and he wanted to give them all hugs and kisses and everything. “But I love them.” 

"Feel free to come over and take care of them," Jon said. He heaved a sigh, but couldn't repress a smile as the puppies squirmed against their mother's belly. 

"Sorry, Thee," Robb frowned. "Maybe when Ghost has his next litter."

Ygritte laughed, while Jon looked up sharply. "There won't be a next litter."

“Ygritte said he’s a stud. I wouldn’t be so sure of it. Or-“ A grin slowly began to grow on Theon’s lips. “Maybe the next litter will be you and Ygritte’s.” 

Jon gaped. "No, that's— it's too soon. We're not ready yet," he said vehemently. Ygritte agreed with a shake of her head, laying back with her head in Jon's lap. 

"Nope," she said, popping the 'p'. "Not yet. How about you guys?"

“If I could get pregnant, I would be already.” Theon stated without a moments of hesitation. 

"Don't have time for a kid right now, either," Robb said. "Too young, anyways. We're 21. We still have a lot of time. Right, Thee?"

Theon’s expression disagreed, but he huffed out a “Right.” He wanted babies. Two of them. Little, squirmy, giggling babies that looked like him and Robb. He could buy them all sorts of clothes, and cute toys... Theon could become PTA president...

"You can wait," Robb said, booping Theon on the nose. "We're not even married, yet."

"Oh!" Ygritte shot upright again, knocking Jon backwards. She hurriedly folded her legs beneath her and leaned forward, hands in the grass. "Your prints came in! From the photoshoot! I almost forgot."

“Oh!” Theon exclaimed, equally excited. “Can I see them?”

"'Course!" Ygritte said. She turned to face the house, and yelled at the top of her lungs for Mance to bring her her folder. He did minutes later, with a resigned look on his face. She thanked him cheerily, and thrust the folder at Theon. "Here!"

He was breathless as he began to flip through, tons of photos of him and Robb filling the folder, the two of them laughing and smiling in every single one. Robb was so handsome, and he looked at him with so much love... Theon in the photos looked back at Robb with the same sort of love, strong and comfortable and oh so happy. They looked amazing- and he couldn’t help but laugh at pictures including Queenie and Grey Wind. “Robb. Come look. We’re so cute.” 

"Oh, look!" Robb plucked out a print of the four of them, Robb and Theon and the dogs. Grey Wind stood proudly at Robb's side, head high and looking handsome as ever, while Queenie sat squeezed between his front legs, her fluffy fur bursting around Grey Wind's legs. She looked joyous. "This one's my favorite."

Theon beamed, looking at his fiancé with bright eyes. He loved him, he loved him so much he felt his heart might burst. “I love you so much, Robb Stark.” 

"I love you too, Thee," Robb murmured, wrapping his arms around him. Jon pulled a face, miming being sick, but Ygritte pressed her lips to his cheek and shut him up fast.

“Ygritte,” Theon started once he’d pulled away from Robb. “Can we borrow your uterus at some point?”

"You can rent it," she said, grinning. "My hourly rate is $5, much better than any of your other surrogate options. Also, I demand post-birth benefits including the title of godmother to at least one child, and the title of favorite aunt."

“At that rate, I think I’d be better off getting my own damn uterus.” Theon snorted, shaking his head. 

"Oh, what the heck. I'll knock it down to $0 an hour, how about that? Just for you."

“Ugh. Love you.” Theon grinned at her. “You’re the absolute best. Maybe I should marry you.” 

"Oh, that's nice," Robb huffed. "Just because she's offering her uterus for free?"

"Aw, don't worry, Robb. I won't steal him from you," Ygritte promised. She leaned forward to stroke the mama wolf's head again.

“I’m sorry that you can’t get me pregnant on your own.” Theon teased, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

"I did my best," Robb mock-sighed. He turned his head to catch Theon's lips, and they kissed. 

"See?" Ygritte stage-whispered. "Jon, that's what Ghost and Orella were like. So sweet."

“I think we should go try again. Right now. In Jon’s closet.” Theon wiggled his eyebrows. 

"No? Please don't."

"Use the one down the hall, next to the bathroom. That's where he keeps his hair products," Ygritte suggested.

“Perfect!” Theon stood up, clapped his hands together, then pulled Robb up with him. “We’ll just be a little bit.” He casted them a wink before dragging Robb inside, giggling all the while.


	8. Chapter 8

"If we leave in a week, we can have him taken and secured in another week," Ramsay said. Skinner sighed.

"Why are we rushing this, again?" 

They were all seated around the table, with a notebook open between them. It was absolutely ridiculous, in Skinner's humble opinion. Ramsay was jotting down whatever he saw fit in the notebook, apparently very pleased with himself. 

"Not rushing," Ramsay said. "We're planning."

“He doesn’t want Theon to get married.” Damon was sat on Skinner’s lap, as per usual, with the excuse that he was his cushion and the wooden chair was simply too hard for his cute ass to sit on. 

Skinner didn't mind, and had one arm wrapped lazily around Damon's waist, holding him. He gazed at the notebook as Ramsay scribbled down what he strategized. Skinner called them battle plans.

"We can head out the same port we came in," Ramsay said. He flipped the page and sketched out a map, drawing a line from the dock at Lorath, looping around Braavos entirely and swirling it down through the sea to connect at some point in Westeros, close to the edge of Essos. That was where Skinner and the others had crossed, he recalled. 

"If we come in by the Mole's Town docks, we can sneak back this way—" He drew a line up the coast, "and make our way to Winterfell like this."

“Mhm.” Damon nodded, his gaze lazily following Ramsay’s movements. He was more focused on rubbing against Skinner, wiggling his hips. 

Without taking his eyes off the notebook, Skinner traced the same swirling line Ramsay had just drawn onto Damon's lower belly. 

"And then?" 

"Then we watch him for a bit. Find a time that Stark is gone, and we can take my pet back."

“Sounds good.” Damon agreed, pushing his ass back more firmly, rolling his hips. 

Ramsay grumbled, pulling the notebook closer. He flipped the page again and drew a quick map of Winterfell. "We know they're still in Winterfell, and we have a safehouse in Eyrie. That's a twenty, thirty minute drive?" He glanced up, evidently seeking affirmation; Skinner nodded, just to please him. He had no clue how far it was. 

"Okay. Then we take him, get him to the safehouse in Eyrie, and if we have to we can get him to Dorne. We have one there, too. I'd rather not, it would be risky, but..." Ramsay tapped the pen irritably.

“Yep. Sounds good.” Damon nodded, still not really listening at all, focused in his efforts of trying to get Skinner hard. 

"Of course, if we get caught, we're all dead... Father won't save us again," Ramsay said, deflating. He went on tapping the pen, staring at his notebook, contemplating.

Damon huffed and stopped his squirming, turning his head to give Skinner a dirty look. 

Skinner smirked at him, eyes directing Damon to look over at Ramsay. He was staring at them both, looking quite cross, narrowed eyes like chips of ice. 

"Pay attention," he snarled, though all he was doing was rambling his 'strategies'.

“Pay attention.” Damon repeated in a mocking voice, scrunching up his nose. 

"I will flay you," Ramsay threatened, while Skinner hid his laughter against Damon's shoulder.

“I will flay you.” He repeated again, mocking, sticking his tongue out afterward. His heart fluttered at the feeling of Skinner’s hot little puffs of breath as he laughed. 

Ramsay grabbed his notebook and smacked Damon with it, scowling. He didn't actually have any of his knives anymore, so it was an empty threat. Skinner only laughed harder, unable to muffle it now.

“Oh no! I’ve been wounded!” Damon gasped, letting his body go limp back against Skinner’s chest. “He’s killed me!” 

Skinner caught him around the chest before his slack body could slide to the floor. "I'll avenge you, my prince," he vowed, and reached out to seize the notebook from Ramsay. He swatted him with it, much to Ramsay's annoyance, and Ramsay snatched it back with a huff.

Damon burst out into a fit of giggles, tipping his head back to rest on Skinner’s shoulder, looking up and smiling at him. “You’re so strong! My hero.”

"Dead fuckers don't talk," Ramsay spat, smoothing out the pages of his notebook. Skinner brought Damon's hand to his lips and kissed it. 

"Anything for my prince," he joked.

“Rude.” Damon turned to stick his tongue out at Ramsay again. “You’re just mad that you don’t have a damsel in distress to save.” 

"I do," Ramsay said, furrowing his brow. "That's what we're doing."

“Mad that you have to wait before fucking yours.” Damon grinned. 

"It'll be better because of it," Ramsay said with relish. "Wasn't it, for you?"

“Yes. After three years of shitty fucking, being with Skinner again was heavenly.” 

Skinner huffed out another laugh, head tipped against Damon's. Ramsay resolved to ignore them, and pored over his lackluster maps and ideas with renewed vigor.

“We should fuck on top of Ramsay’s shitty maps.” Damon suggested. 

"You will not," Ramsay snapped, shooting him a vile look. 

"C'mon, Rams, they're scribbled in a shitty wide-ruled notebook," Skinner pointed out. "You don't have to protect them. Ain't a masterpiece."

“Don’t you wanna watch us?” He teased with a wiggle of his brows. 

"No," Ramsay said flatly. "I don't." He flipped the page again and began writing out more ideas for his own reference.

“Why? You liked my ass well enough in prison.” Damon wiggled his ass against Skinner’s crotch. 

"As a last resort," Ramsay said, totally untruthful. Skinner's hands were on Damon's hips now, lightly squeezing.

“You loved it, you nasty boy.” Damon could feel Skinner’s bulge underneath him now, and he made a noise similar to a purr when he noticed it. 

"I loved having something to do," Ramsay said. "Besides fighting with the other inmates." 

"We'll help him with his dumbass maps, then go, okay?" Skinner murmured into Damon's ear.

“But I wanna fuck...” Damon whined, squirming his hips more, not caring to keep his voice down. 

"You always do," Ramsay snapped. 

At the same time, Skinner was saying without sympathy, "I know. You're fine, you can wait."

“I want it now.” He reached down, swiftly unbuttoning his pants and lifting his hips to slide them down, kicking them off under the table. “Here. On the maps.” 

"Damon!" Ramsay snapped. "No! Bad! Go to your room!"

"Wait," Skinner said, stopping Damon before he could remove his boxers as well. "Damon, just wait."

“It’s nothing you haven’t both already seen!” He cast a dirty look toward Ramsay. “And don’t talk to me like a dog or a child!” 

"Be patient," Skinner said. He bent down and plucked Damon's pants off the floor. "Go wait for me, if you want. I'm going to help finish this up."

He huffed loudly when Skinner handed his pants back to him, pouting at them for a moment before throwing them back at him. “I don’t want to wait.” 

The pants slid uselessly to the floor. "Too bad. We're doing this right now," Skinner said, though he did offer Damon a small smirk before he turned back to Ramsay. "You still have the boat you guys came in on?"

"Yeah, it's just at the docks," Ramsay said. "Nobody's touched it.

“Well you killed the fucking owner because Yellow Dick couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” 

"Better than letting him give us away," Ramsay retorted. "And now we have a boat. Your problem is...?"

“My problem is I’m horny and your shitty maps are keeping me from getting my ass absolutely rawed.” Damon glared at him. 

"The faster we get these done, the faster you can go get fucked," Ramsay pointed out. "Are you going to help?"

“Fine.” He huffed, sitting himself back down on Skinner’s lap. “Your plan sounds fine. Are we done now?” 

Ramsay gave him a thoroughly unamused look. "No. Far from it."

"What else is there?" Skinner asked. "Want to decide the exact thread count of the sheets for your wedding bed? The exact thickness of the ropes and the dosage of drugs to sedate him for when you're saying your vows?"

Damon snorted loudly. “He can’t say his vows if he’s sedated. That wouldn’t be romantic at all, Skinner, come on. You know better than that.” 

"Ah, right," Skinner said. "No, what he needs is the ropes for the vows, and the tranquilizer for when they consumma—"

"Enough," Ramsay snapped. He gave them both cold stares. "I won't need to drug him."

“Ah, I forgot. Ramsay is so charming that Theon will simply fall head over heels in love when he sees him. He’ll fall right to his knees and beg to suck your big, fat cock.” Damon wiggled his brows, egging him on. 

"My pup," Ramsay said wistfully. "No, I know I'll have to work to get him to remember how he loved— loves me, but he will."

"Sure thing, Rams." Skinner patted his arm complacently.

“Gotta work to make sure he can take your cock again. That thing is a fucking beast.” Damon continued, not letting up. 

"Eugh," Skinner said, pulling a face. Ramsay smirked. 

"Jealous, Skinner? He's not wrong," Ramsay said.

“Don’t worry, baby. I like yours better. It’s nice and long, perfectly thick, that piercing, the way it curves just slightly-“ He rolled his hips, grinding against him. “Perfect. So much better than Ramsay’s. He has the cock of a beast, and fucks like one too.” 

Skinner slid his hands down Damon's lower stomach, moving light over his thighs and down between them to grope at his inner thighs. He leaned in and whispered in his ear, "I'll give it to you soon, okay?"

Seeing that neither one was all too interested in continuing, Ramsay ultimately resigned himself to work alone. "Just go," he grumbled. "Fuck each other's brains out."

“Thank you Rams. Rams the man. Thank the gods.” Damon flashed him a brilliant smile, turning on Skinner’s lap and wrapping his legs around his waist. “Carry me to bed, pretty boy.”

Skinner stood up, supporting Damon's weight with one hand under his butt and the other on his back, and he left Ramsay without a glance back. The maps and planning wasn't that important, anyways; Ramsay was just doing to do whatever he wanted regardless of what they suggested. 

He dropped Damon on the bed, letting him bounce and settle on the mattress before climbing over him, bending down and kissing him hard.

“Mm... yes, baby, fuck,” Damon moaned into the kiss, wrapping his legs around him again the second he was able, relishing in the feeling of being beneath him. His cock was already almost completely hard, and he was glad to have already removed his pants. 

Skinner grabbed one thigh and hiked Damon's leg up, moving between his legs. His other hand went to Damon's bulge, teasing at it while he nipped at Damon's lower lip.

“I want your cock, Skinner, want your perfect fucking cock inside me,” He gasped, bucking his hips to rub and grind against his hand. 

"Yeah?" Skinner growled. "No shit. You made that clear enough." He pulled his hand away, leaving Damon wanting, and moved his lips down the pale line of his throat, sucking in harsh bruises.

“Skinner!” He whined, squirming, reaching down to grope him through his pants. “Hurry up, you fucker- fuck, I waited long enough, I want your cock now.” 

"I don't think you did wait, though," he said. He adopted a languid pace, nipping at his collarbone. "You didn't wait very well at all. Had to keep telling you to be patient, didn't I?"

“I did wait! I waited through all of Ramsay’s bullshit- ah- Skinner, bite there again, fucker-“ Damon gasped, tilting his head to bare his neck. 

"There?" He promptly pulled away, giving him nothing. "You didn't wait, pretty boy. You bitched and whined, and reminisced about Ramsay's cock. Compared fucking us."

“I don’t want Ramsay’s fucking cock.” Damon reached up, grabbing Skinner’s shirt in his fists and pulling him down for a bruising kiss. “I was teasing. Now fuck me.” 

Skinner shoved him back, pinning him against the mattress. "You don't get to make demands," he snapped. "Now, you do what I say, and get what I give you. Turn over."

“Skinner...” He whined, but turned over when he was told to, lifting his ass and wiggling it a little. “I want your cock.” 

Skinner pulled Damon's boxers down, exposing his pretty little ass. "Fuckin twink," he scoffed. He cupped the pale cheeks, then reared his hand and spanked him.

Damon cried out loudly, surprised, eyes going impossibly wide and cock twitching at the hit. “Skinner, you- fuck-“ His breath hitched. “You fucker.” 

"Yeah," he chuckled, breath puffing over the back of Damon's neck. "That's me." Skinner brushed his fingers feather-light over the reddish mark on Damon's ass, then spanked him again.

He shoved his face into the pillow, muffling the embarrassingly loud, high-pitched sound he made. For a sadist, he quite enjoyed being spanked, the feeling of Skinner’s palm firmly hitting against his ass- the stinging pain, then the dull ache after. He wiggled his hips, cock dripping precome. 

"Slut," he said, sitting back and unbuttoning his jeans. He pulled his cock free, stroking the length of it. "You want my cock? Want me to press you into the mattress and fuck you til you scream?"

“Please,” Damon moaned, pushing his ass back toward him. “Make me scream like a bitch. Fucking wreck me with your cock.” 

Skinner smacked him again, gentler this time, just wanting to see Damon's ass jiggle with the blow. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? But... You could always have Ramsay's."

“I don’t want Ramsay’s, Skinner, please, I want yours- I want your fucking cock, your perfect fucking cock-“ His voice was higher pitched than usual, pleading, turning his head to look at Skinner with lusty eyes, his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. 

Skinner cupped his ass again, squeezing the soft skin. He leaned down, spreading Damon's legs further apart to shoulder between them, and he kissed Damon's hole before dragging his tongue over it teasingly.

He yelped, cock twitching and dripping, hands curling into fists, clutching the sheets. “S-Skinner- fuck, that’s good, that’s so fucking good, your fucking tongue on me, eating me out, fuck... fuck, that’s so good. That’s so fucking good,” 

Skinner backed away again and hovered over Damon's body. "Did Ramsay do that, too? Mm?" He nipped at the shell of Damon's ear, cock sliding wetly against the cleft of his ass.

“He didn’t, he- Skinner, fuck, I need something in me. I fucking need it.” He shivered, lips parted as his breath came out in hot little puffs. He could feel Skinner’s cock, perfectly long and thick, could feel that fucking piercing, and he was practically drooling for it. 

"Can you be patient, brat bitch?" Skinner sneered, shifting back so Damon was entirely untouched. He could see his cock straining, weeping, beneath him, wet head leaking against the sheets. "Needy little slut."

“Skinner, please!” Damon’s voice cracked, his fists curled, his body practically trembling with frustration. “Please, I want it. I want it, you fucking asshole! Stop teasing me!” He pushed his ass back, searching for physical contact. 

"You're demanding, still?" Skinner faked a sigh, sitting back on the mattress. He lowered his hand to his cock. "If you won't learn, you won't be rewarded."

“No, please!” Damon spread his legs further. “Please! What do you want me to say?” 

"Beg nicely," Skinner suggested, grabbing Damon by the lower hips and lifting his ass up off the bed. He squeezed the soft flesh, appreciating it. "Maybe I'll be generous."

He let out a whine, high pitched and needy. “Please. Please fuck me, Skinner, please put that perfect cock inside me- please!” 

"How long could you wait, if I made you?" Skinner asked, more curious than actually planning. His own cock was throbbing, desperate to sink inside him. Still, it was fun to tease.

“I don’t know!” He spread his legs again, further, as far as he could, putting his pretty little hole on display. “Please don’t keep making me wait. Your fingers, your cock- please.” 

"Why shouldn't I make you wait? You couldn't wait out there, when I was asking you to," Skinner said. He pushed him down again so Damon's head was against the mattress, ass still in the air. He parted Damon's cheeks and teased his hole with the tip of his thumb.

He whimpered, pushing back, trying to get it inside him. “Please. Please. Please, Skinner.” 

"You look good like this," Skinner said huskily. "Sound so pretty when you beg." He finally rewarded him, pulling his hands away to force his fingers to Damon's lips.

Damon eagerly took them in his mouth, licking and sucking as if his life depended on it, moaning around them as he did. He turned his head as best he could to look at Skinner, lips plump and wet. 

"Greedy slut," Skinner said, drinking in Damon's wanton expression. He pulled his fingers from Damon's lips, prodding them against his hole. He slipped the first inside, closely followed by the second.

“Yes, fuck,” Damon hissed, letting his head fall back to rest on the pillow. It felt good, Skinner’s fingers slick inside him, finally filling him. “Hurry. Please.” 

"Impatient," Skinner tsked. "We'll have to fix that." But he didn't pull out again, only pushing his fingers deeper in and adding a third. Damon could take it; they fucked more often now than they ever had before.

“Your cock, Skinner. I want your fucking cock.” Damon whined, wiggling his hips. “Now.” 

Skinner pulled his fingers free, stroking over his cock to slick it up, before grabbing his hips and lining up with his hole. He didn't push in yet, just teasing the head over his entrance.

“I swear to the gods-“ Damon growled, forcefully shifting his hips back to force Skinner’s cock inside him. He gasped, tension melting from his body, relief causing his eyes to roll back. Yes. That was good, so good, so fucking good. 

"Fuckin slut," Skinner groaned, grinding his hips against Damon's. "Just a needy whore, aren't ya? Do anything for some cock in you. You would've spread your legs right there in the kitchen, huh?"

“Yes, fuck,” He hissed, rocking back against him. “Fuck me. Please, Skinner, fuck me properly.” 

Skinner growled under his breath, pushing Damon now and hiking his hips up, pounding into him. He found his prostate within several well-practiced thrusts.

He cried out, dropping his head and biting down on the pillow, moaning like a whore even though it was muffled. 

Skinner huffed a laugh, slowing his pace and rolling his hips languidly. "I could tear you right open," he murmured, "and you'd just moan like a bitch. Hm?"

“Yes. Yes, please,” Damon’s voice was muffled quite a bit, but his words were still able to be made out, if only just barely. 

Skinner stopped entirely, flipping Damon over onto his back so he could kiss him. He moved over him so Damon's cock was between them, and he hiked Damon's legs up to wrap around his waist.

Damon kissed back eagerly, sucking at his lower lip, biting at it, eyes falling shut as he rolled his hips to meet each annoyingly slow thrust. He moaned into his mouth, whined, wordlessly pleaded him to go faster. 

"Faster?" Skinner whispered against his lips. "Harder? Needy, so needy... Fuck, Damon," he hissed, and his hands ran lightly down Damon's sides. He squeezed his ass and spread cheeks, pounding into him with renewed force.

All the waiting, all the fucking teasing, it had Damon fit to burst. He couldn’t come yet- that would be humiliating, to come so soon- but he was close, cock twitching and leaking as he writhed beneath and around Skinner. “Love you, fuck. Fucker. Oh- oh- there- I can- your piercing, right on my prostate, Skinner, there, please!” 

"Right there?" he asked, smirking. He ground his hips slow and deep, making sure his piercing moved right against Damon's prostate.

“Yes!” His breath hitched, voice cracked, eyes rolling back and back arching off the mattress. “Yes, please, please, oh fuck. Oh fuck, Skinner!” 

"Oh, Skinner!" called the mocking voice of Sour Alyn from the hall. "Keep it down!" 

Skinner gave a bark of laughter and thrust harder against Damon's prostate, grabbing his cock as well to coax out even louder cries.

Damon practically screamed, writhing and fighting the need to come as he was fucked raw. It felt so good, so fucking brilliant, and he couldn’t stop crying Skinner’s name over, and over, and over. Each thrust was perfect, the curved piercing and blunt head both hitting hard against his prostate, filling him up so well, and he was practically seeing stars. “Yes, Skinner! Love you, love your fucking cock, your big, thick, perfect fucking cock! I’m close, so close, you’re gonna make me come, gonna fuck me so good,” 

"Gorgeous," Skinner mumbled, staring down at Damon as he fucked him. Silky blond hair strewn in a mess around his head, cock flushed and weeping so prettily in Skinner's hand. He stroked Damon slowly, while speeding up his thrusts.

“I’m so close, please- are you gonna come soon? I wanna come with you, quick, please,” He gazed pleadingly up at Skinner. 

"Yeah," he groaned, "I'm close. Fuck." Damon clenched around him and Skinner drove his cock up against his prostate again, letting the piercing slide over it with the force of his thrust. He bent his head and nipped at the corner of Damon's lip, before kissing him.

Damon cried out, high-pitched and needy. “I’m gonna- Skinner, I’m coming, fuck, I’m gonna come, I-“ He cut off, moaning obscenely loud, perhaps a bit louder than necessary, his hips bucking and eyes closing tightly as he came. The orgasm tore through him, his nerves lit on fire, clenching impossibly tight around Skinner’s cock. 

Skinner groaned softly, hips stuttering as he came too. He pulled out, letting Damon sink boneless into the sheets, and lay down next to him. Their eyes met.

"Ramsay's gonna be pissed later," Skinner remarked. He couldn't really bring himself to care.

He laughed softly, shifting to lay on his side. He stared at Skinner, admiring him while enjoying the feeling of his come, hot and wet, dribbling down his thighs. “Let him be pissed. He’ll get over it when he fucks his pet again.”

"Once we retrieve him for him," Skinner scoffed. "You know he's gonna make us do it. He always does." He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a happy little hum.

“Mm. Lazy fuck.” He squirmed over, resting his head on Skinner’s chest. “You’re so pretty.” 

Skinner wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. "I love you," he said quietly. "I don't want to lose you again."

“Me neither.” He looked up at him, eyes bright and blue and soft with affection. “I love you, too. I don’t even want to go back to Westeros.” Then, after another minute. “I’m... scared.”

"You're scared?" Skinner was struck by an urge to storm downstairs and tear those wretched maps to shreds, right before Ramsay's eyes, but he refrained. "We don't have to go. He won't force us."

“We have a son. We’re happy here. We’re safe and happy and we have to go back to where we aren’t safe just so Ramsay can get his rocks off.” His brows furrowed, worry written across his expression. 

"We can show him some video tutorials on masturbation," Skinner joked half-heartedly. "That should work just fine."

“I just wanna lay in bed with you and your cock for the rest of my life.” Damon sighed. 

Skinner turned onto his side, maneuvering so he could kiss Damon. "Soon," he murmured, "that's just what we'll do. First, I guess we have to help Rams. Then he can fuck off with his pet, and we can come back here."

“Back to the farm with our son.” He sighed happily, and as if on cue, the door to the bedroom was nudged open and a tiny cat walked in. Damon smiled and helped her up, letting her nuzzle between them. “I’m happy here.”


	9. Chapter 9

"Have you started planning anything yet?" Sansa asked, eyes sparkling. She held Theon's hand in hers, examining the ring and turning it every which way so the light reflected off the diamonds. "Dates? Location? Any ideas?"

Theon laughed, beaming as he looked from her to the ring. “Not yet. No dates or locations. All we know is Queenie is the flower girl and Grey Wind is the ring bearer.”

"Have you thought of any bridesma— Groomsmen?" Sansa bit her lip. "G-groomsmaids?" she tried, and shot him an apologetic look.

“Don’t worry, Sans. You’ll be one.” He reached out with his right hand, playfully patting her on the head.

"Oh, good," she said. "Will the rest of the dogs be involved? I think Ghost would be heartbroken if he wasn't included."

“Of course! They’ll all be groomsmen. All of them. Or groomsladies.” He teased, grinning widely. “They can all get fancy matching collars.”

"Ties, too. Shaggy would look dapper in a tie," Sansa said, giggling. She let go of his hand, reaching down instead to pat Queenie, who was hopping excitedly against the leg of her chair. "And this pretty little girl needs a spa day!"

“You and your spa days.” Theon reached down to give the little fluff ball a few pats as well. “You can take her out next week or something, okay?”

"Okay!" Sansa said cheerily, scooping up Queenie to give her a cuddle. "It'll be so fun, Queenie! Me, you, and Lady! And you and Robb can have some alone time," she added slyly, peeking up at Theon.

He laughed. “Oh don’t worry. We get plenty of time to ourselves.” He tilted his head. “What about you and Margaery? How are you getting along?”

"She's perfect," Sansa gushed. Her cheeks colored pink as she started thinking about her girlfriend; her doe eyes and thick, soft brown hair, her high cheekbones and the soft of her skin. "I can't believe we've been together for three years already!"

“I’m so happy for you two.” Theon couldn’t help but smile brightly at how much Sansa perked up at the mere mention of her girlfriend. The Starks were really all such suckers for their significant others- she got the same excited look in her eyes talking about Margaery that he’d seen in Robb’s many a time.

"Thank you," she said, letting the squirming Queenie hop back down to the floor. "You and Robb are so lucky," she said. "Living together, engaged already..." She traced her finger along a dark line in the wood table. "We're 19. Too young for that, even though we've been together just as long."

“Well, Robb and I are in our early twenties. Prime marriage age. And I know I’ll never love anyone else, not like I love him. He’s everything to me. And his family- you guys- are like my own. We’re practically married already, just not legally.”

"Yeah." She let out a sigh anyways, and leaned back on her chair to balance on the back two legs. "I can't wait for your wedding."

“Me neither. I can’t wait to call him my husband.” Theon looked at her, eyes bright and smile wide. “And I’ll be Theon Greyjoy Stark.”

"Greystark? G-Grark? Grark." Sansa giggled. "How does it feel? To call him fiancé?" Maybe she was a little jealous, but she was happy for them. So, so happy. She'd never seen anybody love each other like Robb and Theon, except maybe her parents. And all bias aside, her and Margaery.

If even possible, Theon lit up even more. “Amazing, Sansa, so amazing. My fiancé. Boyfriend was good, but fiancé is better. And husband soon. My husband. Fuck, Sans, I really love him.” He sighed happily.

"I'm so happy for you guys," she said again, smiling warmly. Queenie gave a soft little yap, circling around Theon's chair before bounding off to the door. She yipped again, and Lady joined in, leaping to her feet and barking at the door. On the other side of the door, another dog barked, and then the rest of the dogs in the house all started going nuts. The door swung open and Grey Wind darted through the opening, looping the kitchen in a puppy-like display of excitement. Robb and Rickon came inside, Rickon carting his backpack, and Shaggydog emerged from down the hall to greet his master.

“Welcome home!” Theon jumped up from his seat, hurrying over to hug Robb and give him a kiss on the cheek. He held him tight for a moment before letting go, smiling at Rickon. “Hey there, little dude. How was school?”

“Was okay. Missed Shaggy.” Rickon gave Theon a quick hug before throwing his backpack on the floor and running to his dog.

Robb chuckled, taking Theon's hand. "How was your visit?" he asked, just as Arya and Nymeria cane charging down the stairs and bursting into the kitchen.

"Did you bring it?" Arya demanded, now a girl of fourteen. Her fencing sword, Needle, was clutched in her hand like always, and her dark eyes lingering on Robb's bag over his shoulder.

"Yeah, Ary, of course I did," he said, reaching into the bag. "That reminds me—" He withdrew a little package from his bag and tossed it to Sansa, then handed a similar package to Arya. "Lemon cake for you, and fudge for you," he said, and both sisters gave their thanks. "I have something for you too, Thee. I'll give it to you later."

“Oh? A present?” Theon grinned, leaning against him. “What is it? Will I get it before we go out tonight?”

"If you're good," he said, bopping him on the nose with a playful grin. Arya plopped down in an empty chair, peeling back the packaging from her fudge with a gleeful expression. Nymeria lay down at her feet, nose to nose with Lady.

"Bran's with mom," she said around a mouthful of fudge. "Just put his in the fridge." Robb did so, and joined them around the table while Rickon played on the floor with Shaggydog.

“I want it now.” Theon whined, teasing, sitting down next to him. “What is it?”

"You'll see," Robb said. "It's dessert for later. You can be patient, can't you?" They both were fully aware that Robb would give it to him as soon as they reached the car, complete with a plate and fork if Theon so desired.

“Everyone else got theirs. How could you neglect me so?” He pouted, reaching out to play with Robb’s curls.

"You're special, so you get to wait," Robb teased. Arya made a grossed-out face, and Sansa laughed at her. "Unless you want to leave now so you can get it?"

“Yes please.” Theon batted his eyelashes, giving Robb his best puppy dog eyes.

"Come on, then," he said, amused. Grey Wind nudged Queenie forward, towards the door and away from one of the dog bowls.

"Bye," Sansa said, echoed by Arya and Rickon.

“Goodbye, my soon to be siblings.” Theon waved to them before scooping Queenie up and heading out the door.

There was a white box waiting on the passenger seat, wrapped with silky ribbon and topped with an ornate pink bow. They got into the car, and Robb placed the box on Theon's lap.

"Open it up!" he said cheerily.

Theon eagerly undid the ribbon, opened the box, and gasped. It was beautiful, a little cake, frosting a pretty bluish-green shade that reminded him of the sea. There were little fluffs of frosting puffed around the edges, and it was making his mouth water just to look at it.

“Robb, I want to eat it, but I’ll feel bad because it’s so pretty.”

"It's a cream cake, from the Hot Pie bakery," Robb said. "Don't worry about eating it, Thee. You can have a cream pie later, too," he added playfully, smirking.

“Oh you know how much I love cream pies.” Theon teased, not looking away from the gorgeous cake. “Can we get our wedding cake from this guy?”

"That's the plan! Arya knows him, she suggested him. He makes these cute wolf-shaped bread loaves, too." Robb moved the car to drive, beginning to head out of the driveway. "Do you want some now? There's a pack of silverware in the glove box, I think. Or you can save it for after dinner tonight."

“I’ll save it!” He decided, beaming. “I can’t wait to go out tonight. I love you so much.”

* * *

That night, they went to a fancy little Dornish bistro downtown. With the menus in front of them and a glass of wine each, Robb still found himself on edge. There was something off; he had an itching sort of feeling that something was wrong, horribly wrong. He eyed in particular one rowdy group of men.

“You’re so handsome.” Theon sighed happily, staring at his fiancé. He paid no attention to the group, sipping at his wine and admiring Robb instead.

"I could say the same to you," Robb said affectionately, reaching across the table to hold Theon's hand. The group was still in his head though, only more so when they all laughed raucously at some foul joke one of them made.

Theon smiled, giving his hand a little squeeze. It was so easy to get lost in Robb’s eyes, such a pretty shade of blue, and Theon could just stare at him for hours and not grow tired. Staring at them, however, caused him to notice something was off. “Baby? Are you okay?”

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head a little as though to clear it. He forced a smile, hoping to ease Theon. "I'm fine. Just... Wishing those guys would be quiet, is all."

“Ugh, yeah. They’re being rude, honestly.” Theon huffed, turning to look at the loud group of men. One made eye contact with him and Theon gave him a dirty look, earning himself an even dirtier one in return, before turning back to his menu.

Their waiter came around shortly to take their order, collecting their menus afterwards, and the group only seemed to get rowdier. It got to the point where the other patrons were also sending them dirty looks, which the men ignored.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom before the food gets here, okay love?” Theon pushed his chair back, standing up.

"Okay," Robb said, keeping a watchful eye on him as he walked off. Something felt extremely off about those men, or maybe he was just paranoid. Either way, he kept an eye on Theon until he disappeared around the corner to the restroom, then he stared down one of the men as they made to get up. His eyes were trained on where Theon had disappeared to, and Robb realized it was the same one who had exchanged dirty looks with Theon.

The man sneered back at Robb, hovering in his seat, still poised to get up. Robb gripped the edge of the table with white-knuckled fists, ready to go fight if that guy made any sort of move towards Theon. He knew this place, knew the men's bathroom was one stall, and he didn't want him going anywhere near Theon, where Robb couldn't see. The man didn't move though, and they stayed in a sort of standstill until Theon reemerged, heading back across the dining room to rejoin Robb. Then, the man got to his feet and strode off to intercept Theon's path, donning a shit-eating grin.

Theon’s soft little grin faded slowly as his gaze shifted from Robb to the man standing in front of him. “I- sorry, excuse me.” He moved to go past him, but the man stepped to the side to stop him. Theon’s brows furrowed. “Can I help you?”

"You sure can," the man said, leering. "See, I'm awfully horny, and I couldn't help but notice your ass as you were walking away..."

Theon swallowed hard, grimacing. “Yes, I’ve a nice ass, my fiancé would certainly agree.” He looked around the man, looking at Robb for a second before the guy shifted to block his line of sight again.

Robb stood immediately, storming over to save Theon. Unaware, the man went on, "Fiancé? That guy? Screw him, come on over with me and my buddies. We can all show you a real good time."

“I’m gonna have to say no, sorry.” Theon went to step past, only to be blocked again. He gave the man a filthy look. “Come on, dude. Let me pass.”

The man reached out to grab Theon's arm, and at that moment he was socked in the jaw by a very angry Robb Stark. He fell to the side, clutching at his face, and swore furiously.

"What in the hells, man?" he demanded. "I'm just fuckin' talking to him! What, you don't let him talk to people?"

"He can talk to whoever he wants," Robb snarled. "But he doesn't want to talk to you."

Theon stepped over to Robb, wrapping his arms around Robb’s arm, hugging it. He smiled warmly at his fiancé. “This is my fiancé.” He spoke, turning back to look at the man. “He’s the only one allowed to look at my ass.”

"Not much to look at," he snapped, changing his tune very quickly. He stomped off back to his laughing buddies, nursing his bruised jaw and wounded pride.

"He's jealous," Robb said, guiding Theon back to their table. Slowly, the rest of the restaurant patrons all turned their attention back to their own friends and their food.

“Don’t listen to him. You’re so handsome. So pretty. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” Theon’s expression was soft and happy, his eyes full of fondness and affection. “My handsome fiancé. My knight in shining armor.” He teased.

"I love you." He took his hand over the table and squeezed it. The waiter was coming with their food now, setting the plates down before them and refilling their water glasses, along with topping off their wine. As the waiter whisked away again, Robb poked at his food. "I know it's just some random guy, but... I don't want anything else happening to you, Thee. I just want to keep you safe."

“I know, baby. I know. Thank you.” He took a mouthful of food, chewing and swallowing before speaking again. “You’re so strong. That guy is gonna have a bruise.”

"Good," he said, scowling. He threw a dirty look over his shoulder at the group. "He deserves it. Trying to grab you like that... What did he even say to you?"

“He, uh...” Theon grimaced. “He wanted to fuck me. Told me he wanted to bring me back with his friends and show me a good time or whatever. Honestly, I’ve been on the receiving end of enough gang bangs to last me a lifetime.”

Robb bit his lip, looking defeated and angry. "That won't ever happen again. I promise. Ramsay's gone, hopefully rotting in some Essos desert, and you don't have to worry about him anymore."

“I know. I know, baby, trust me.” He reached out his free hand, placing it on top of Robb’s on the table. “I love you.”

"Love you more," Robb said quietly. "My Thee."

It wasn't long before the group of rowdy men was leaving, and the tension bled out from the atmosphere. Robb relaxed, and took in the happy sight of his fiancé digging into his food, feeling as though everything would be alright.


	10. Chapter 10

Little as they wanted to go, Skinner and Damon still found themselves on a boat with Ramsay and most of the other Boys. Sea breeze ruffled Skinner's hair back from his face, and he toyed with his lip piercings out of boredom. Ramsay was leaned over the bow of their little boat, coasting his fingers through the rippled surface of the water. Yellow Dick manned the steering, and the engine rumbled quietly underwater behind them. 

Skinner hated it. He wanted to be back at the farm, where he and Damon and their kitten could be safe, but instead they were on a damn boat and Damon had the kitten in his hoodie pocket, holding his hands protectively over the squirming lump. Ramsay, of course, was grinning madly. All his stupid notes and stupid maps in his stupid wide-ruled notebook were packed away in one of their bags, useless as ever. The boat had a godsdamn GPS system—why would they even need a map?

"This is bullshit," Skinner announced, lolling his head back with an exaggerated sigh. "We're just grabbing him and going, right?"

"If you paid attention," Ramsay grumbled, glaring over his shoulder at him, "you would know the answer. No. We're staying at a safe house until he's good to travel with."

“Just throw him in a body bag and drag him back somewhere.” Damon snapped, pulling the squirming kitten out of his pocket and planting a kiss atop her tiny little head. She was so soft and small, making squeaky little noises but then purring as she nuzzled her face against his cheek. 

"I think he might fight that, don't you?" Ramsay retorted. He rolled his eyes and turned back to face the water. He had formulated a decent plan, but Damon and Skinner were both dragging their feet as much as they could. He didn't know what had happened to their close camaraderie, but he missed it.

“Knock the fucker out.” Damon suggested, kissing the kitten again, cooing to her softly. 

Ramsay ignored him. That wasn't how he was doing this, not this time. He wanted what they had had before, back before all of this shit had happened. He wanted the boys to be his again, best friends like they were (more so Damon and Skinner, but still). The only change he wanted to make was to have Theon at his side, loving boyfriend like he had been before he ever tried to break him. It was too late for that now, but he had already broken Theon. All he had to do was remind him of that, remind him how much they had loved each other, and he could have it all again.

Damon huffed, annoyed by the lack of response, and walked over to Skinner. He passed the kitten over to him, laughing when she stuck out her tiny pink tongue to lick his fingers. 

"Hi, Stephie," Skinner murmured, scratching her little chin. He let out another sigh. "Brightside, I guess. Nobody has to call me Donnel anymore. Shit name. Downside? We get to be in hiding again."

“Upside, we don’t have to deal with Ramsay being horny and whining all the time.” Damon gave Ramsay a pointed look. 

"That too," Skinner agreed. Ramsay ground his teeth, wanting to snap back at them but refraining. His best friends—supposed to be, anyways—were talking trash about him all the time now. He tried to pretend it didn't bother him, but it did. But they would go back to normal once this was all sorted out, he knew.

“Rams, c’mere.” Damon called. He could see the tension in Ramsay’s shoulders, could feel the agitation coming off of him in waves. 

Ramsay stood carefully, taking slow steps to not fall or shake the little boat, and made his way over to Damon and Skinner, sitting down beside them. "What?" he asked grumpily.

“You gotta relax, bud.” Damon leaned against him, his usual little grin playing on his lips. “You’ll have your pet soon.”

Finally, Ramsay smiled. "Yeah," he said. "I will. Then we can go back to the farm, and he and I can travel around Essos a bit, if he wants. Get his dog first, if course. You guys can get another cat, as many as you want..."

“He will want his puppy. Your puppy needs his puppy.” Damon laughed. “Then you can marry the fucker, give him your own damn ring.” 

"Smash the one from Stark," Ramsay went on, smirking. "Could even get him a new necklace. He liked the old one, before..."

“Sell the one from Stark.” Damon corrected. “That thing has to be worth a couple thousand at least. Use it to buy him other shit.” 

"Good idea!" Ramsay glanced over at Skinner, who was holding the kitten protectively, while still allowing her round blue eyes to peek out and watch the sea fly by. He didn't seem interested in talking, but Skinner was always more on the quiet side compared to Damon and the others. 

"Yellow Dick?" Ramsay called. Yellow Dick, Luton, and Sour Alyn's chatter ceased. "How long does it say?" 

"...twenty-eight minutes," he announced. 

"Good," Ramsay breathed. The distant shore of Westeros could be seen now, but that shore was where they had escaped from. There was no going back there.

“We’re not visiting your dad, right?” Damon looked at Ramsay, raising an eyebrow. “Because Roose bores the hell out of me, and his whole leech thing really skeeves me out.” 

"No," Ramsay said. "Of course not. We'll stop there once, just to grab some things, and never again. I don't think he would turn us in, but he won't help us either."

“Sounds good.” Damon sighed, fairly content to be sitting between his boyfriend and best friend, the sea breeze blowing in his hair. 

Most of the rest of the ride was quiet, but Ramsay didn't mind the silence this time. He felt better with Damon and Skinner right beside him like they used to be, and hopefully would be again. When they docked the boat, Ramsay made sure they did a thorough wipe-down of all surfaces they touched, and distributed gloves between them. Each of them carried a concealed knife, and they all wore their hoods up on their jackets. Thankfully, there was a light drizzle so they didn't look too out of place.

“Where are we going now?” Damon mumbled, Stephanie now back in his pocket. He was starting to wish he’d paid attention to Ramsay’s shitty maps and planning. 

The others all crowded around as Ramsay pulled his notebook from his bag. He flipped it open to the right page, with the scribbled notes and map.

"We're in Mole's Town," Ramsay said, keeping his voice hushed. "Winterfell is a couple of hours down the coast, if we drive. Or a day's walk."

“I am not walking for a whole day. Do I look like I can walk for that long?” Damon hissed as quietly as he could. 

Yellow Dick gave him a look. “Shut up, princess.” 

"Go on and steal us a car then, Damon," Ramsay said, but there was a playful infliction to it. Skinner looked around. 

"There's one right there," he said, gesturing towards an empty car at the end of an empty street.

“Steal it.” Damon looked at Ramsay. “You’re the smart guy, not me. I’m the looks. Not the brains. I don’t know how to steal a car.” 

Luton grumbled and broke away from the group, not wanting to listen to them bicker. He strode over and bumped purposely against the side of the car, looking to see whether an alarm would set off. None did, and Luton looked swiftly around to see if anybody else had come down the street. He jogged back over to them. 

"Anybody have anything I can use to jimmy the lock?" he asked. Ramsay dug through his bag, coming up empty handed, and looked to the others. He was sure they had a toolkit somewhere, but it had to be in somebody else's bag.

Damon pulled out a manicure kit, shrugging. “I have mini scissors, a metal nail file, and nail clippers?” 

Luton didn't even look at them. "Yeah, thanks Damon." Skinner shook his head as well, and he turned his eyes expectantly to Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn. Sour Alyn came up with a three ring binder, full of his own doodles and extra loose leaf paper. Luton snatched it, and from Yellow Dick he collected tape and a couple of pens. He went back to the car and used the binder as a wedge to prop the door open a tad, and taped the pens together into a sort of stick. He wiggled it down, pushed the unlock button, and opened the door with a wide grin.

“Rude.” Damon mumbled, annoyed. “That doesn’t even turn the car on, you just opened the door, you asshole.” He crossed his arms after shoving his little kit back into his pocket. 

"Still in it, though," Luton shrugged, tossing the binder back to Sour Alyn and the pen stick back to Yellow Dick. "Somebody else can start it."

“Not me. I’m sucking dick in the back seat. Get in, bitch boy.” Damon gave Skinner a playful little shove. 

"Hey!" Sour Alyn complained. "Not right now, come on!" He shouldered them aside, climbing into the backseat with Yellow Dick and Luton. They closed the door behind them. Skinner went around to the driver's side door to work on hot wiring the car to start.

“I can suck dick whenever I want. I’ll do it right now. I’ll do it right on the fucking street.” Damon threatened, glowering at them. 

"Damon," Skinner drawled. "You can wait." He worked for another couple of minutes, and the car was running. Ramsay, meanwhile, was rifling through the glove compartment. 

"Found the spare," he said, holding it up. Skinner stared at it, then at him.

“What kind of dumbass keeps their spare key inside the fucking car?” Damon snorted, walking over to Skinner to wrap his arms around his waist. “All my baby’s work for nothing.” 

"Somebody who wants their car stolen," Ramsay shrugged. He climbed in the driver's side, leaving Skinner to sit on the passenger side with Damon on his lap.

Damon settled in comfortably, facing Skinner instead of the dashboard, reaching out to play with his piercings. 

"That's not safe," Skinner warned, poking his tongue out at him and showing off his newest, a six-month old silver barbell in his tongue.

“That’s not safe.” Damon repeated in a childish, mocking voice, leaning in to bite playfully at Skinner’s tongue, sucking it into his mouth with an obscenely wet sound. 

Skinner groaned, sitting straight up and grabbing Damon's hips, pulling him into a messy open-mouthed kiss. Ever the hypocrite, Ramsay gave them a grossed out look even though he would likely be doing the same or worse with Theon once he got him.

Damon moaned rather loudly, grinding on his lap as Ramsay began to drive. “Yes, Skinner, baby, love that tongue of yours. Love how it feels in my mouth. Love how it feels on my ass and on my cock. Can’t wait to have it inside me again, then your perfect fucking cock.” He moaned again, rolling his hips, making sure everyone in the car heard. 

"Wanna keep it down?" Luton asked snidely, while Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn merely looked uncomfortable. Skinner retaliated by grinding his hips against Damon's, drawing out a louder whine.

“Yes, Skinner, baby, fuck!” Damon leaned in, sucking a hickey onto his neck. “So good. Can’t wait to fuck you again.” 

"You'll have to," Ramsay said waspishly. "Unless you want your bodily fluids all over this car."

Skinner pulled back. "Oh. He has a point, Damon."

“Cockblock.” Damon huffed, but Ramsay was right, and so he stopped acting like a horny little bitch. 

Skinner reached over to fiddle with the radio, flicking it on to a random station. Generic pop played through the speakers, and he turned the dial again to a rock station. "How's this?" he asked the group in general, though it was more directed to Damon.

“It’s okay.” Damon nuzzled his face up against Skinner’s neck. “I’d rather listen to you moan.”

"You can wait," Skinner said, though he leaned into the soft touch. Ramsay gave them a jealous sideways look; soon enough, he would have that with this Theon again. The three in the backseat were all chatting amongst themselves, and with Damon and Skinner canoodling in the passenger seat, Ramsay knew he was in for a lonely drive.

“Don’t wanna.” Damon softly kissed along his jaw. “Wanna have you now.”

“Please don’t.” Yellow Dick interjected from the back seat. “None of us want to see that.” 

“I dunno. I don’t think I’d hate watching Damon’s ass spread around a cock. Might be a good way to pass the time.” Sour Alyn shrugged. 

"What?" Skinner asked incredulously. He glanced back over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. 

"Nobody's fucking in the car," Ramsay said. "I don't want to smell it for hours."

“I’m just saying,” Sour Alyn continued, “Damon is pretty, we all know that. So I’m saying what everyone’s thinking. It wouldn’t be a bad sight, watching his hole spread out around a cock. Nice and pink and open. Probably be pretty fucking hot, really.”

Damon made a face. “Gross, dude.” 

"Yeah..." Skinner said. Sour Alyn was right, of course, but he shouldn't say it. Not him, anyways. Skinner could say it, but Damon was his. It was allowed.

“Gross? You two do it all the time. We all have to listen to you moaning like a pornstar, it’s only natural we’d want to see if you look as good as you sound. Come on, can you blame a guy for wanting to see some sweet ass? To see a pretty pink hole get torn in half?”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t really feel like watching Damon get fucked.” Yellow Dick gave him a weird look. “No offense dude.” 

"I think I'm done with this conversation," Luton said, leaning forward to turn the radio up. The latest hit song by the singer Bardrick was playing. Ramsay, on the other hand, was tuning them all out anyways with thoughts of collecting his pup.

Damon looked at Skinner, visibly annoyed, leaning in to talk to him without the other boys hearing. “I do not want Sour Alyn to see me getting fucked. He sounds like he’s spent way too much time thinking about it.” 

"He's not watching you. We'll be more private," Skinner said. "You good, Rams?" 

Ramsay nodded in affirmation, not taking his eyes off the road. A street sign they passed announced Winterfell as 126 miles ahead.

“Ramsay, you’re so cool.” Damon grinned at him. Ramsay had been tense lately, as well as excited, but he could tell something was off. “We’ll be there soon, bud.” 

"Couple of hours," Ramsay muttered. Assuming they didn't get pulled over and arrested, that is. He was sure to drive extra carefully, and thanked the gods that the car they stole was a generic make and model that wouldn't stand out.

“Cheer up. Want some road head or something?” Damon joked. 

"No," Skinner and Ramsay said in unison.

"I don't think he needs that," Skinner said, squeezing Damon's hip almost warningly.

"I don't think Skinner wants you to do that," Ramsay agreed with a teasing smile.

“I was kidding.” Damon whined, pouting up at Skinner, looking as cute and innocent as he could muster. 

"I know. Don't do that," Skinner said, patting his head like he would a dog. Ramsay deflated. Dogs. He missed his dogs, his sweet girls. Saying goodbye to them that morning had been excruciating.

If all went well, he would be back to them in barely months. If it went exceedingly well, he would have his pup, his Theon, by his side and he could be happy again. He wanted to be happy.


	11. Chapter 11

Theon woke up with the feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong. There was a dark, nasty twisting in his gut, and he didn’t know why. He shook Robb gently, looking down at him with wide, worried eyes. “Robb. Robb, wake up. I don’t feel good.” 

Robb shot up, immediately wide awake. "What is it? What happened?" He pressed a hand to Theon's forehead, feeling to see if he had a fever. He didn't, and Robb sat up straighter, curling his legs beneath him as he looked at Theon. "What's the matter?"

“I don’t know.” Theon scooted closer to him. “I don’t know, but something is wrong. Something feels wrong, Robb, I don’t know what it is. It feels like something bad is going to happen.” 

Now that Theon had said it, the prickling feeling was settling over Robb, swirling dread in his gut. He swallowed. "Yeah... I..." He stood up, crossing the bedroom to the window, and pushed the curtains aside to peer outside. There was nothing he could see, only the shrubbery outside rustling in a nighttime breeze. He glanced back at Theon and shrugged helplessly, letting the curtain flutter closed over the window again.

“Come back and sit with me?” Theon’s voice wavered, eyes wide and fear in his expression. “I- I don’t feel safe. I don’t know why. It feels bad. Something is wrong, Robb, I don’t- I don’t know what, but something is wrong.” 

On the end of the bed, Grey Wind sat up, looking at them in confusion, and Queenie followed suit. 

Before he did, Robb went to the closet and pulled a blanket down off the shelf. He draped it around his and Theon's shoulders, snuggling up against him. Grey Wind whined softly and resettled, but didn't go to sleep; he lay awake and alert now, his eyes trained on them both and his ears pricked forward. Queenie nestled against his side, just a ball of sleepy fluff. 

"Whatever it is," Robb said slowly, "it'll be okay. It's probably nothing, anyways."

“Probably just had a bad dream I can’t remember or something.” Theon agreed, but the bad feeling was still there, and it wasn’t because of a dream. He leaned his head on Robb’s shoulder, looking at the dogs. 

Robb was also fully aware that it wasn't a dream, not if he felt the same feeling. He didn't say this, just held Theon in a comforting hug. "Do you want me to check outside?" he asked.

“No. Stay with me, please.” Theon squirmed his way onto Robb’s lap, staying held snugly in his arms. 

"Okay. I'll stay with you, always. I love you, Thee," Robb murmured, kissing his head.

“I love you too. I’m sorry I woke you up.” Theon snuggled up closer, nuzzling his face against the crook of Robb’s neck.

"Don't apologize," Robb chided gently. He looped his arms more securely around Theon. "I never want you to be scared or nervous alone, if I'm with you. I want to be here for you."

“Queenie has a spa day in a few days.” Theon said after a few moments in silence. “I was thinking let Sansa borrow the engagement ring so she can find a collar or something to match for Queenie?”

"That would be cute!" Robb agreed. "I'll get Grey a matching tie, when we're looking at tuxes."

“Perfect.” Theon tilted his head, trailing tiny, gentle kisses along Robb’s jaw. “They’ll both look amazing.” 

"Just like you, handsome Thee," Robb hummed, tilting his chin up for Theon to reach. Queenie crawled on her belly across the mattress, wiggling up beside them for cuddles.

Theon laughed as the little Pomeranian climbed up between them, squirming into the tiny space and pressing her wet little nose against them. Theon reached down, patting her tiny soft head. 

"We'll have to get her a little flower basket," Robb said, patting her fluffy body. "Do you want silver or blue, Queenie?"

Queenie did a little pit-pat with her paws and yipped, looking up at Robb. 

“I think she wants blue.” Theon answered for her, laughing again as Grey Wind started to worm his way up the bed. 

"We'll have to pick a shade to go with your fur, then!" Robb scritched her chin and reached out to Grey Wind, ruffling the fur of his neck. He licked Robb's hand and pressed his wet nose to his palm, wagging his tail.

“Should we go somewhere? I don’t think we’re going back to sleep. Not with these babies.” He smiled down at the dogs. 

Robb flumped back against the pillow. "Hm... Davos's Friendly Family Market is pet friendly, right? We can't leave them behind now, not since we woke them up."

“They need to come. I’ll get Queenie’s baby harness.” Theon stood, albeit a bit reluctantly. He headed to the closet, digging out a baby harness that he used to carry the Pomeranian. 

"C'mon, Grey," Robb said, getting up from the bed. Grey Wind stretched and gave a massive yawn, slithering from the bed and dragging half the sheets with him. He thumped to the floor, wagging his tail again as he loped over to the door.

“What a silly boy.” Theon cooed, walking over to pick up Queenie. He held her in his arms, and then on his lap when they got out to the car. 

Grey Wind stopped before hopping into the backseat. He pulled his lips back, showing his teeth, and growled softly. All down his spine, his hackles went up, and he stood a slow step away from the car. Grey Wind sniffed madly, turning his head to stare into the shadows of the shrubbery. Robb watched, that eerie prickling sensation creeping up his spine again. 

"What is it, bud?" Robb asked softly. Grey Wind's ears pricked forward and he stepped further towards the bushes.

Theon tensed, clutching Queenie tighter to his chest. “Robb, please. Grey Wind. Let’s just get in the car and go, okay? It’s probably just a big animal or something.” He swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than to just be safely locked in the car with his family already. 

Rob reached out to take Grey Wind by the collar, but the dog wouldn't budge. His muscles strained, trying to coax Grey Wind back, but the wolfdog yanked away and trotted stiffly over to the flowering shrubs planted right at the base of their bedroom window. Robb swallowed thickly. 

"Theon...?" he said tentatively. Grey Wind had his nose to the ground, sniffing the grass and pacing in a tight circle. "Grey. C'mere, bud."

Something had been there, outside their bedroom window, Theon had no doubt. He hoped it was an animal, some weird big animal like a bear, but something in the back of his mind was telling him it wasn’t. 

“Robb, Grey, please. Please come to the car. Please.” Theon begged. Queenie was growing anxious as well, and was beginning to squirm. 

"Grey Wind," Robb said, voice growing sharper. The dog tore his head away and gave Robb a chilling stare, but moved back towards the car nonetheless. He glanced back over his shoulder, giving that patch of grass one last look before hopping inside, and Robb shut the door behind him before climbing behind the wheel.

“I don’t like that at all.” Theon said quietly, planting a soft kiss atop Queenie’s tiny, soft head. 

"Me either," Robb admitted. He was sketched out by the mere thought that something had truly been there, outside their window. He didn't really want to think about it. Robb shifted the car to drive and drove slowly out of the driveway, hoping to see a glimpse of some large animal that could explain away things.

Despite both their hopes, they saw nothing to explain it on their way out the driveway. They were on the road knowing nothing more than they had before, but feeling much less secure. Theon looked at Robb. 

“I really don’t feel good about that.” 

Robb didn't say anything, but his grip tightened on the steering wheel. As they passed a side street, a car turned off and rumbled along behind them at a safe distance, but... the headlights weren't on? Robb bit back his remark, in case Theon hadn't noticed, and dragged his eyes from the rearview back to the road. He didn't like this one bit.

“There’s a car behind us.” Theon said quietly, a slight tremor to his voice. He wanted to be inside the market, and now. He wanted to be under the bright lights in a place with other people. 

"There is," Robb said. He glanced back; the lights were still off, and he couldn't make out the driver's face. They were far enough back and it was dark enough that he couldn't even make out how many people were in the car. "We're almost there, though. Watch, I bet they'll be turning soon."

Theon swallowed thickly, nodding in agreement, but he couldn’t shake the bad feeling he had. Ramsay. It was Ramsay, his mind was screaming it at him. It made no sense- Ramsay was far away in Essos, but he couldn’t help but think it. 

The car did turn, disappearing down another side street just as they drove down a stretch of dark road with trees overhanging. Robb watched the car go in the rearview, and felt the tension bleed from his spine. He relaxed somewhat, and at that moment something enormous bolted across the street in front of them. Robb hit the brakes, tires screeching, and Grey Wind barked madly, flinging himself against the window as though trying to break through and chase down the mysterious creature. 

Heart pounding, Robb sat forward and peered off to where it had gone.

Theon screamed, clutching Queenie as tight to his chest as he could, eyes wide and full of fear. He looked over at Robb, tense and trembling. “Robb. I really don’t like this. I really don’t. I- keep driving, please.” 

"Wait," he murmured. He could just make out its shape, and the shadowed outline of antlers. The head turned, and two eyes gleamed at him from the dark. Robb let out a breath. "A deer, Theon. Just a deer."

“A deer wasn’t driving that car. A deer wasn’t looking in our window, Robb. Please keep driving.” 

Robb nodded, easing off the brakes and letting the car roll into motion again. As they cleared the dark part of the road, street lamps appeared, dotting the sides of the road and leading them forth into the business district of Winterfell. The supermarket was a sprawling thing, and there were still a half dozen cars in the parking lot despite the obscenely early hour. Thank the gods for twenty-four hour stores.

Theon carefully moved Queenie into the little baby harness, letting her lick his face as he did, making sure she was ready by the time they parked. He felt a little safer now, under the lights of the parking lot, but his mind was still screaming Ramsay over and over. 

Before they got out, Robb leaned over and took Theon's hand. "It's okay. It could have just been a coyote outside the window, and that car could have been nothing. Maybe their lights were out." They were empty reassurances, but he had to say them.

“It was him.” Theon whispered, barely audible. It made no sense. It couldn’t be Ramsay, it couldn’t, but everything in him was screaming that it was. 

"It couldn't be," Robb said. "He's in Essos. It's— it's not possible." But what if...? No. He shook the thought from his head. It wasn't possible, it just wasn't.

“It’s him. It was him, Robb, I feel it. I- I know it doesn’t make sense. I know. But I’m scared.” He squeezed Robb’s hand a little tighter. 

"It couldn't be him," Robb said. "There's no way he could have made it back without getting caught." Grey Wind shoved his nose between them, keening loudly. He wanted out.

Theon took a deep breath, a shaky breath. “You’re right. You’re right, I’m just scared.”

"If you'd like, we can buy a wooden bat and some nails?" Robb asked, half-jokingly. In all seriousness, he would really like to take a nail-bat to Ramsay's face.

“We are not buying supplies to make a nail bat. C’mon. Let’s go inside.” He got out of the car, crossing around it to take Robb’s hand once Grey Wind was on his leash. 

Grey Wind trotted easily at their side, at ease now that any sense of danger was gone. The sight was a breath of relief for Robb, but he still didn't fully relax until the automatic doors had opened and shut and they were inside the store with its brightly lit and open atmosphere.

“This is better.” Theon noted, giving his hand a little squeeze. 

"Good," Robb said. They wandered, with the massive wolfdog at their side drawing many alarmed looks from other late-night shoppers, but if this was where Theon could feel safe, Robb didn't mind staying. As long as Theon wanted.


	12. Chapter 12

It was Wednesday, and the car was in the driveway. From all their observation, they had deduced that Stark would be away at his classes, and Theon should be home alone. They had watched the wolf girl come and pick up Theon's Pomeranian, and shortly after the wolf bastard had come to get Stark's mutt. With them out of the way, they didn't have to worry about canine interference when they were going inside.

Ramsay led the way, sidling up alongside the house. Theon and Stark had the first floor apartment, and there was no sign of upstairs neighbors in the whole week they had been watching. They went through the first door, blessedly unlocked, and crept down the hall into the kitchen. The lights were all off.

From outside, the bedroom window was on the left side of the house, facing the fenced yard and trees beyond it. Inside, Ramsay led his little group down the side hallway and opened the first door. A bathroom, with no window. The next room was dark and quiet, the only sound being the soft rustling of sheets. Ramsay could see him, his perfect pet, turning on the bed. He stepped inside, surefooted yet silent, and the others waited outside the room.

Theon was perched atop Robb’s lap, straddling him, kissing him, his soft moans muffled by his fiancé’s lips. He was wearing a pair of backless lace panties, a joke gift from Yara that actually fit him very well, his cock straining against the fabric as he rolled his hips down against Robb’s erection. Robb was in only his boxers beneath him, and Theon was very much enjoying running his hands over the smooth muscular surface of his body.

From where he stood, and with the lighting in the room, Ramsay couldn't see Robb. He didn't, until Robb's hands rose to Theon's waist and he rolled his hips up, half-bouncing Theon on his lap, and he sat up to kiss Theon.

Now, Ramsay could see it all. He could see their state of undress, could see their cocks hard against each other, and hear the soft sounds of pleasure they both were making. Rage exploded in his gut, bursting through his veins and clouding his brain with frothy red. Ramsay's hands made painful fists at his sides, and he longed to plant one in Stark's face and beat him until he was bloody and just as red as his vision painted him. He could scarcely breathe through his fury, but he schooled himself well enough to speak.

He stepped forward, letting his heavy footfalls creak the hardwood floorboards. They both jolted, stiffening. "All dressed up and ready for me, pup? So sweet of you," he crooned, voice sickly sweet and wrought with danger.

Theon went rigid with horror, turning his head to look at Ramsay, and suddenly felt as if he couldn’t breath. No. No. He was in their house, in their room, he couldn’t be- he was supposed to be in Essos. Why was he here? Theon couldn’t move. He knew he should- he should fight, or run, or try to get his phone and call the cops- but he was frozen. He couldn’t look away from those pale, chilling blue eyes, couldn’t look away from the rage on his face. One of his hands moved to grab hold of Robb’s, squeezing it impossibly tight. “No. You- you can’t be here. Ramsay, go. Get out.”

"Oh, pup," Ramsay murmured, just loud enough to hear. "But you're mine. Remember?" He stepped towards them, and Robb pushed Theon aside, down to the mattress and blocking him from Ramsay with his own body.

"Get out," he snarled. Ramsay smirked.

"You don't get to order me around, little wolf." Behind him, the other boys slunk inside, all but Damon and Skinner, who had stayed behind to watch the door and the street outside, making sure nobody was coming.

“Robb,” Theon whimpered, grabbing tight hold of his arm. He felt like he couldn’t breath. It couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening, it made no sense. He felt sick to his stomach. “Ramsay, no. No. Get out.”

"Don't worry, sweet little pet," Ramsay said, voice still silken. "I will. But you'll be coming with me."

"No, he won't!" Robb shouted, now rising from the bed. His hand went to his phone on the nightstand. "All of you— get the fuck out! I'm calling the police."

"Cute," Ramsay said. He inclined his head slightly to the side, and Luton lifted a gun and shot the phone from Robb's hand. Robb flinched back immediately, eyes wide.

“No!” Theon screeched, throwing his arms around Robb and pulling him tight against himself, back down onto the bed, the bullet having narrowly missed hitting Robb’s hand and wounding him. “You- you can’t be here! Get out!”

Ramsay glanced back at Yellow Dick, nodding once, and he hustled off to get the car ready. Ramsay reached into his pocket, feeling for his own secret weapons. He grinned as his fingers brushed over them. Bingo.

He took a casual step towards the bed, and Robb scuttled back over the mattress, still trying to shield Theon. Pathetic.

Theon, eyes wide with horror, shifted to throw himself and Robb over the side of the bed. They landed on the floor with a loud thunk and a yelp from Theon, but there was now a barrier between them and Ramsay.

Ramsay clucked his tongue, moving around to the other side of the bed. "Really, now—"

Robb grabbed him by the leg, yanking him down to the ground and planting his fist in his gut. A huff of air escaped Ramsay, and he rolled over to try and get back on his feet. Robb cursed, grabbing Ramsay by the hair and shoving his head back down, hard against the floor.

"Stay the fuck down!" he spat, straddling his back to pin him down. "Thee, the drawer!" Theon's phone was in the nightstand drawer, and if he could get it, they could call for help.

Theon froze for a minute, staring, but quickly made to get up. He fumbled to get the drawer open, pulling his phone out, but his hands were so shaky that he quickly dropped it. He hurried to pick it back up and unlock it, going to his dial pad.

Luton stepped forward, gun held out, eyes narrowed. "Put it down," he ordered. Ramsay tried to twist around to see what was going on, saw the gun, and his eyes widened.

"Luton, no!" he exclaimed. But Robb had seen too, and lunged to his feet, moving into the crossfire.

"Don't you dare," he growled. Luton eyed him, bored, and dropped the gun marginally. Robb reached back, grasping Theon's hand, and the gun fired. Robb went down with a sharp cry and a mangled curse, and Ramsay started to laugh.

Theon cried out, dropping to his knees next to Robb, holding him so his head was in his lap.

“You shot him!” Theon shouted, voice shaking with confusion and anger and fear. “You shot him! Robb, Robb, baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” There were tears now, dripping from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks, guilt bubbling in his belly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Robb, I’m sorry.”

Robb panted, eyes hooded with pain, but it was his leg, just his leg. Ramsay stood up, still laughing so cruelly, and he reached down to take Theon by the arm. "Come on, pup, let's go. It'll be alright, he'll bleed out within the hour and he won't be able to take you away from me again."

“No!” Theon slapped his hand away, not looking away from Robb. “I won’t leave him. I won’t. You can’t make me. You- you can’t let him die, you can’t, you can’t leave him to die, I won’t leave him! I won’t!”

"Ramsay, we really have to listen to this again?" Sour Alyn whined. "Can't we cut his tongue out? I'm sick of it."

"Don't fucking touch him!" Robb screamed from the floor, struggling to get up. His leg pulsed with agony every time he attempted to move it, and he couldn't do much more than sit up.

“Robb, careful, please. Please, you’re hurt.” Theon looked down at him, eyes full of worry and all the love in the world, more love than he’d ever shown Ramsay.

"I can't let him take you," Robb said, staring back up at him, eyes watery from pain. Blood was streaming down his thigh, coating the floor beneath him in the slick substance. "Not again."

"Poor little wolf," Ramsay said sweetly, kneeling beside him. He patted Robb's head. "You don't have a choice. You're going to die, and I can be happy. Doesn't that sound nice?"

“I don’t want you!” Theon looked at Ramsay, glaring at him, and then lunged at him. He clawed, aiming for his face, his eyes.

Ramsay shoved him back hard against the wall, but tripped backwards over Robb's prone leg, thumping heavily to the floor. "Fuck!" he cried, and suddenly Robb was astride him, his bloody leg sliding wet and useless over the floor. Robb's fist met his face again, and Ramsay tipped his body sideways and shoved Robb to the floor. They wrestled for a moment, Ramsay kneeing Robb in the gut more than once, until he worked a hand free of the scuffle and plunged into his pocket, withdrawing the first syringe. He pinned Robb to the floor and injected the tranquilizers into his neck.

“No! What did you do? What did you fucking do?” Theon threw himself at Ramsay once again, a bit dizzy from hitting the wall, but was stopped from doing anything more when a needle was shoved into his neck as well. He stared at Ramsay, eyes wide and lips parted in shock as he slowly lost consciousness and fell limp to the ground.

"Since you begged so prettily," Ramsay told Theon's unconscious body, "we'll take the Wolf too."

"We will?" Sour Alyn asked, confused.

"Change of plans," Ramsay said, spinning on his heel to face them. "Don't let him bleed out. I have something new in mind."

Luton, Sour Alyn, and Yellow Dick all exchanged looks, but quickly moved to pick the limp bodies off the floor. As they headed out the front door, Damon raised an eyebrow.

“You took both.” He stated coolly, not a question, looking at Ramsay.

"I did," Ramsay said. He watched apathetically as Stark's body was forced into the trunk of their latest steal, a van with tinted windows, and Theon's was laid more carefully across the back row of seating. "Figured we could have a bit of fun with him, like in the old days."

“You’re an actual dumbass.” Damon crossed his arms. “We can’t run off to live happily ever after in Essos with Robb fucking Stark.”

"We won't play as long with him," Robb promised. "Just long enough to break my pup from the habit of him. We'll be heading home within a month. Don't worry, Damon. In the meantime, have some fun with this."

Ramsay went off down the porch steps, pausing to check on Theon in the very backseat, before climbing into the driver's seat. Luton slammed the trunk door shut. Skinner raised an eyebrow.

"You know he's gonna get carried away with this," he said.

Damon sighed, walking with Skinner to the van. “I know. He’ll keep the Stark boy for a fucking year if it gets a reaction he likes out of his pet. I just wanna go back to the damn farm.”

"And with his family?" Skinner shook his head vehemently. "How long until they notice he's gone? It'll be just like last time. I don't want to get caught again.

“Me neither.” Damon climbed in, making a face at the sight of the two bodies. “Ramsay, come on. You couldn’t even put clothes on them?”

"Stark won't need them," Ramsay said, shrugging. "And I can give pup some. It's fitting, isn't it? Leaving his old life behind for a new, with me."

"Yeah, sure," Skinner muttered bitterly.

“He’s literally wearing panties.” Damon grimaced. “His ass is out, Rams.”

"He was comfortable enough in them for the Wolf, wasn't he? He'll be fine wearing them for me." He sounded so sure of it that Skinner had to roll his eyes. Theon was literally about to marry Stark, of course he was comfortable in them. That meant exactly the opposite for Ramsay.

Damon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face then looking over at Skinner, thoroughly unamused. It was useless to argue with Ramsay, the stubborn bastard. “What safe house are we even going to?”

"The one in Eyrie, like I said," Ramsay said, growing cross. Really? Had Damon not listened to a single word he had said? He started driving, peeling off down the street.

“Don’t get pissy with me. You’ll be balls deep in your stupid fucking pet soon enough.” Damon snapped back.

"Promise?" Ramsay gave a leering grin at the thought. Yes. Soon enough, his pet would be truly his again.


	13. Chapter 13

When Theon woke, the first thing he noticed was the absence of Robb’s arms wrapped around him. Then he noticed he was on a small cot, not his bed. Then he noticed a night light on the wall, casting a dim orange glow over the room. This wasn’t his room, it wasn’t his apartment, and he spent a few long minutes in a groggy state of confusion before remembering what had happened. Robb. Robb had been shot, Ramsay had broken in and knocked them both out.

“Robb...” he groaned, squinting and shifting on the cot. There was a rattling sound when he did so, and he noticed the cuffs on his wrists and how they were chained to a pole.

The chain was long, thin and light but strong enough to withstand any attempts to break it. It coiled loosely on the floor, with enough length there that he could easily pace the room and still have a foot of slack. In the far corner, there was a small toilet, thankfully clean, and beside it was a sink and a hand towel on a bar, securely fastened to the wall. On the ceiling, there was a small light with a pull string dangling from it. There was a switch on the wall next to the door, flicked upwards.

Theon stood shakily on the cot, turning on the ceiling light with the string, whimpering softly as his eyes adjusted to the light. No Robb. Robb wasn’t there. “Robb?” He said again, louder this time. “Robb?!”

There was no answer, not from Robb, but there was a soft knock on the door.

Theon’s head jerked, fixing his gaze on the door. “Who’s there?”

The door opened and Skinner entered, looking drawn and weary. He nudged the door shut behind him with a foot and carried over a metal tray bearing a water bottle and a plate of food. "Hey, kid," he said, sounding for all the world like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Where’s Robb?” Theon asked, ignoring the food completely. “Where is he? Where’d you put him?”

"He's here," Skinner said. He set the tray down on the end of the cot. There was a hotdog on the plate, plain in a bun with a dollop of ketchup on the plate beside it. "Not dead. I gave him some morphine, and wrapped the wound. Luton wasn't supposed to threaten you, so Ramsay's taking care of that right now."

“I want Robb.” Theon snapped, narrowing his eyes. “I want Robb now. You can’t- you can’t do this again.”

"Trust me, kid. None of us are too psyched about this." Skinner leaned back against the wall, watching him. The chain clinked as Theon shifted. "Ramsay's told us to play around with Stark as much as we please."

“No!” Theon snapped. “No, you can’t play around with Robb! Leave him alone, all of you. Don’t touch him!”

"I'm not touching him, don't worry. I have a cat now, you know? Ain't risking my neck for Ramsay's pleasure. I can tell he's just as much of a fighter than you ever were, if not more, and you were a snarky little shit in the beginning. But you quieted down, mellowed out. They always do." He paused to let that sink in. "Ramsay's not gonna want to stick around here long enough to do that, though. When he gets bored, he'll kill him."

“He can’t. He can’t kill him. I won’t love Ramsay, I won’t, I don’t love him and I never will. I don’t want him. I’m engaged. I’m supposed to be getting married. Please, Skinner.” The man had never helped him before, but Theon was holding onto hope anyway.

"I know you do. We all know that. Whether we care, or not..." He paused again, watching Theon's face, his desperate eyes. "That depends." Skinner pushed off the wall, pacing around the cot. He walked the room, taking in the new little luxuries that Theon hadn't been privy to last time. "Ramsay's decided he's in love with you. He wants you back, and wants you to come willing. It won't be painful this time, or scary. He wants to take you back to someplace safe, marry you himself."

“I won’t marry him!” Theon spat, rage in his expression. “I don’t love him! I don’t! I won’t go willing!”

"I know you don't," he drawled, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling as though to ask 'why me?'. "You've made that very clear. What do you want me to do about it?"

“Tell him. Tell him to let me go, and Robb. I don’t want him to hurt Robb. I love Robb.” Theon’s expression softened slightly.

"He won't listen to us," Skinner replied curtly. "If he did, we would all be back home and be fine, happy. But we're not. We're here, you're here, and we all get to be fucking miserable together. Sounds great, doesn't it? Eat your hotdog."

“I’m not eating my fucking hotdog.” Theon huffed, crossing his arms. “You don’t get it. I want Robb, I want him safe, I love him. You wouldn’t fucking understand.”

"You think I don't understand?" Skinner turned to face him, eyes sharp and flinty in their gaze. "You think you're the only one who's suffered, because of what happened? The only one who could possibly be in love here? You're not."

“What, are you pining after Ramsay?” Theon’s eyes narrowed more. He was angry, so angry, and scared too- but it was just Skinner. Out of all the boys, Skinner scared him the least.

"You think you're special," Skinner said coldly. He barked a laugh. "Cute. Fuck off, kid, just get over it. Nothing you can do is gonna change a thing. Ramsay's in love, and Ramsay gets what he wants. He wanted you, he got you. He wanted out of jail, he got out. He wants you again, he gets you. Again."

“I don’t want him.” Theon’s voice cracked. “I don’t. I want Robb. I want my fiancé, Skinner, please.”

A muscle ticked in Skinner's jaw. He still harbored lingering resentment against him for sending Damon and the others away for three years, trying to send them away for life, but he knew exactly what Theon was feeling. It was how he had felt for those three years, and a shade of what he was feeling now, just wanting to go home with Damon and get away from all this shit.

"You'll see him again. Don't worry, kid."

“Help me. If you’re in love with someone, you know, Skinner, please. Please help me.” His eyes were wide, pleading.

"I do know. And what you're feeling now? I had to feel it for three years. Three. Godsdamned. Years. I think you can sit and stew in it for a bit before I do anything for you."

Theon paused, staring at him, trying to piece things together. “Wait- do you- do you actually love Ramsay?”

"Not Ramsay, you dumb cunt," Skinner spat. The thought grossed him out. Ramsay was his friend, his best beside Damon, but that was all.

Not Ramsay. So Yellow Dick? Sour Alyn? Damon?

“You love Damon.” Theon said finally, eyes wide.

Skinner stiffened. Well, he really didn't have anything to lose here, did he? "Yes. And you stole him from me. Now, your precious Wolf is in a room just down the hall..." He stepped towards him, close and closer. "And you'll get to listen to the playtime. Don't worry, kid, I won't be partaking. I've no interest. I'll be right here with you."

“I- don’t let them hurt him. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry about Damon. Please. Just please don’t let Robb get hurt.”

"I can't promise that. Hells, I think it's too late already." He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. "It is. Care to listen?"

“What? What do you mean it’s too late?” Theon looked around the room, frantic. “What do you mean, Skinner?” He stood from the bed, walking toward the door, but was stopped by the chain.

Skinner strode past him, grasping the doorknob, and opened it wide. He turned to Theon with a blank, totally neutral expression. There was no sadistic glee in his face, only apathy. Barely four seconds passed before there was a horribly, choking scream.

“Robb!” Theon shouted, yanking at the chain. That was Robb, Robb screaming, Robb in pain. “Robb!” Another scream followed, and Theon felt sick to his stomach. “What are they doing to him?!”

"No clue." Skinner shrugged. "That's part of the game, though. Guessing. Hells, they could be doing anything to him in there. They know a few new methods now, thanks to you."

“Make them stop!” Theon demanded as another scream tore through the air. “Stop! Leave him alone!” He didn’t know where Robb was, how far away, or if anyone other than Skinner could hear him.

"Gods, I don't know what they're doing to him in there, but it sounds rough," Skinner said conversationally, as though they were merely chatting about the weather. "I'd hate to be him. Hells, I don't even know who's in with him."

“Help him!” Theon demanded, staring at Skinner with pleading eyes. He was beginning to shake, tears welling in his eyes.

"And what do you suggest I do, kid?" Skinner gave him a cold look. "Storm in, guns blazing, and demand they stop? No, I don't think so." Robb screamed again, and Skinner leaned against the doorframe to listen. He didn't have any of the old sick enjoyment, just a sense of empty duty now.

“You said you love Damon! You said you know! So help him, please! Help him, bring me to him, something! I’m sorry I separated the two of you, I-I’m sorry! Tell Ramsay I’ll be good! I’ll do whatever he wants, if they stop hurting Robb. I-I’ll do it all willingly. I’ll be good. I’ll be his pup again. Tell him, Skinner!” Theon lunged for him, wanting to shake him, to scream in his face, but he couldn’t get close enough.

Skinner eyed him, then leaned out into the hallway. Soft footsteps came closer, and Ramsay himself entered the room. Skinner glanced briefly between them, and left.

"Hello, pup," Ramsay greeted.

“What’re you doing to him?” Theon immediately asked, not giving him a legitimate greeting.

"I'm not doing anything, pup." Ramsay moved closer, within his range of motion. "That's all my boys. I believe it's Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn, right now. They learned some things while they were in prison, but I think Skinner told you that?" He sat down on the edge of the bed, beside the tray.

“W-What are they doing? Make them stop! Please!” He scrambled over to Ramsay, nearly tripping over the chain, dropping to his knees in front of him. “Rams, please!”

Ramsay stroked his hair back, carding his fingers through the silky locks. So soft, so clean. His perfect little pup. "They're just playing, pup. I promise you, they're all having fun."

“He’s screaming! He’s hurt! Please. Make them stop. Leave him alone. Please.” He looked up at him, eyes wide and wet, looking quite a bit like an actual begging puppy.

"Playing," Ramsay corrected. "Yelping and crying like dogs, that's all. They get a bit rough, but they'll stop if I tell them to."

“Then tell them to. Please. Please, Ra- master. Please.” Master- the word tasted filthy on his tongue, tasted so sour that he nearly gagged. He hated it. Hated that word, hated saying it, calling Ramsay it, but he needed to convince him to stop hurting Robb.

"You don't need to call me master," Ramsay said. "Not anymore." Not if he was going to really, truly love him. He curled his fingers in Theon's hair, tugging gently so he would bring his head closer.

He didn’t fight it, letting himself be coaxed closer to Ramsay, tears dripping down his cheeks. “Please tell them to leave Robb alone. Please.”

Ramsay pulled him up and kissed him gently. "I can't do that, pup. Not right now. He needs to learn his lesson, first."

Theon jerked away from the kiss, shoving at him, narrowing his eyes into a glare. “Like I learned mine?” He hissed. “Look how well that turned out.”

"You're not learning a lesson here, pup," Ramsay said, trying to stifle his annoyance. Did any of that past stuff matter? "Not now."

“I would’ve kept loving you on my own if you hadn’t ‘taught me my lesson.’” Theon flinched, hearing another scream, and couldn’t help the pathetic sobbing sound he made in response. “Please. I’ll do anything. Stop hurting him.”

"No, you wouldn't have. You loved the Wolf, you always loved the Wolf. The only way I can have you is to take him out of the picture, isn't it?" Ramsay stood up, brushing past him.

“No!” Theon shouted, the word coming out cracked and desperate and ugly as he threw himself at Ramsay, grabbing hold of his arm to stop him and sliding back down to his knees. “N-no, you can have me, you can.”

"I already have you, don't I? And oh, pup, you begged me to take him too. 'Don't leave him!' I didn't, did I? Isn't this what you wanted?"

“Not to hurt him. I don’t want him hurt, please.” He shuffled closer, nuzzling his face against Ramsay’s thigh. “Please make them stop hurting him.”

Ramsay stroked his hair again, smiling down at him. "Anything for you, sweet pup," he said with masked malice.

Theon relaxed just a tiny bit. “Can- can I see him?”

"Not today, little pup. Maybe tomorrow, if you're good. Why don't you eat your food, and I'll be back to visit in a bit?"

“You’ll make them stop hurting them?” He looked up, hopeful.

"I will," Ramsay said. The 'for now' went unspoken, but there was a pregnant pause. He glanced towards the hotdog on the tray, cold by now.

Theon followed Ramsay’s line of sight and sighed, standing carefully and walking back over to it. He picked the tray up, walking back over to Ramsay, making it seem as if he were about to bite into the hot dog when he lifted it up. Instead, he swung the metal tray in the air, aiming for Ramsay’s head.

Ramsay ducked, grabbing Theon's arm in a vice grip as it blew past, and wrenched his arm down hard. The tray clattered to the floor and Ramsay shoved Theon down to the floor next to it, near where the hotdog had fallen and rolled free of its bun. Ramsay snatched up the tray and slammed it hard against the wall, over and over again with earsplitting bangs, until the cheap thing was mangled and warped in his hands.

Theon had raised his arms to protect himself, cowering away, but slowly sat up when he realized Ramsay was hitting the tray against the wall and not him. He swallowed hard, shakily standing back up, nervously eyeing the mangled mess that was the metal tray.

Ramsay clenched it in his fist, breathing hard but fighting to get it under control. He directed his glare to the hotdog instead. "Who gave you a metal tray? Skinner?"

“... yes.” Theon said quietly, making a point of not looking Ramsay in the eye.

"Of course he did," Ramsay muttered. He always did. It was like Skinner wanted Theon to attack him. He banged it against the wall one last time, just to get it out of his system, before stepping outside and chucking it down the hall to be dealt with later.

He left Theon without a glance back, too angry to risk it, and went down the hall to the room they were keeping Stark in. He nudged the door open with his foot and stepped into blinding brightness. He surveyed the scene with a curved grin, before nodding to his boys.

"Keep it up. See how loud you can get him."

* * *

Robb woke to the dark, and total silence. He breathed in shakily, his hands immediately going to his leg as it twinged. The pain was numbed drastically from what it was, but he attributed that to whatever drug they had given him to knock him out. The wound was wrapped with thick bandage, but he could feel a small wet spot where the blood had soaked through. Robb was on the floor, cuffed by his wrists to a post drilled deep into the ground. He tugged experimentally, but it didn't budge. He sat back, breathing hard, and gazed around. It was so dark that he couldn't make out anything further than a foot or so away,

Where was Theon? Was he in a similar situation? Was he okay? He didn't want to think it, but... Was he even alive? He swallowed back the choking fear and told himself better. Of course he was alive. Bolton wanted him back, so of course Theon was alive. His own chances at survival, however, were suddenly minimal.

Seven hells. It was just that morning—was it still the same day?—that they were sending the dogs off for playdates, for them to have a day to themselves... If only. If only they hadn't. But no, he didn't want to think that, because he knew deep down that against the six of them, even Grey Wind would not have stood a chance. His little boy would likely have been killed, and Queenie would either have suffered the same fate, or have been taken with them. It was better for the dogs to be away and safe with Sansa and Jon than for them to be here, or hurt, or worse. Robb still hadn't forgotten what Theon had told him about sewing Grey Wind's head to his shoulders. Would Ramsay actually do that? Robb didn't know for sure, but he was glad he didn't have to find out. At least, with them out of the way, he only had to worry about getting Theon out of here alive, and safe.

First, he had to figure out how to get out of these cuffs. If only he could see. He tugged at them again, hard enough that he was bound to bruise his wrists, to no avail. If he could only stand up, or move at all, to find out how long the chain was... Thankful as he was for the pain killers he had been given, he didn't want to push his luck. He shifted his leg, feeling a sharp twinge of pain, but it was nothing compared to what it was before. Robb slid his hands down his thigh, feeling around the bandage, and there was a larger damp patch on the back as well. Did that mean it had gone through? So the bullet had gone through... He breathed out a small sigh of relief, and let himself relax back against the wall.

Was Theon okay? Had he been hurt? Try as Bolton may to convince himself and everybody else that he truly loved Theon, he still had a spitfire temper, and Theon was a brat at best. It was just one of the things Robb loved most about him, but Bolton... Robb chewed at his lip, staring upwards into the black abyss of the ceiling. He was screwed here, really screwed. The more he thought about it, it was likely that Theon would be privy to fair treatment with food and beverage given, but Robb? He doubted he would be shown a lick of care. This bullet wound would surely be infected by the week's end, and he would starve or dehydrate if they didn't outright torture him to death. His outlook was bleak, but he at least hoped that Theon would be able to get out of here okay. He did the last time, albeit after several months of debilitating torture, but that was three years ago, and Theon had been more vulnerable than ever. He was stronger now, and Robb had faith in him. Even if he were to die, Theon would never let them take him. He would make it home.

Robb let his eyes slip shut; there was no sense in keeping them open, not when he could see exactly the same thing behind his eyelids. It could have been seconds or hours before there was a clattering outside of this little room, and he opened his eyes wide again, staring hard into the dark and trying to see what was going on. The door opened just wide enough for a man to walk through, and the light that bled through the opening was sharp and blinding. Robb screwed his eyes shut and looked away, too accustomed to the dark now to tolerate the sudden brightness. It shut again, only a sliver of light filtering through the crack. Robb opened his eyes, peering up and squinting to make him out. It was Yellow Dick, leering down at him, and in his hands he held a little toolbox. Robb didn't want to think about what was in there, or what it meant for him.

“Good morning, wolf.” Yellow Dick announced, followed by Sour Alyn, a crooked grin on his face as he walked in. His teeth were yellow and coated in so much plaque that it was visible, off-white gunk around his gums. “We got the go ahead to do anything we want to you.”

Morning. So it had been a day? He scowled up at them, finally able to see with the light streaming in. "I think you need to brush your teeth," he said, eyeing Sour Alyn with disgust.

Yellow Dick snorted, but Sour Alyn’s grin turned into a glower and he reached over to slap Robb across the face. “Insult my teeth again and I’ll rip out yours.” He threatened

“Not yet. We haven’t had a fighter in a while- haven’t had anything in a while. It can be fun to hear them bitch and beg.” Yellow Dick gave him a look.

"I'd never beg you for shit," Robb snapped. "Cute of you to think that, though." He shifted his weight best he could, trying to avoid jostling his leg. "Where's Theon?"

“Oh, who knows?” Yellow Dick snickered. “Chained up somewhere. Maybe wrapped around Ramsay’s cock, maybe sucking it. Probably crying- he was always a fucking crier.” He shrugged, placing the toolbox on a small side table and opening it. “What should we do first, wolf?”

"Bring me to Theon?" he suggested wryly. "Maybe stitch up where I was shot? Or, you know, you could let us go? Any of those would be great."

"You're funny," Sour Alyn sneered. He stepped over to rifle through the toolbox.

“What you thinking, Sour Alyn? Needles? Electrocution? Some nice brute force?” Yellow Dick elbowed him playfully.

"Hmm." Sour Alyn pretended to think. "Wasn't Ramsay tased when he was arrested? Weren't we? How about we return the favor. I like the electrocution. How about you, Wolf?"

Robb stared back at him, stony-faced but fearful.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Yellow Dick agreed, fishing a taser out of the kit, one they’d stolen from some cops a while back. It was honestly a surprise they still had it- that they still had anything, really, as Skinner, Damon, Luton, and Grunt hadn’t exactly had many opportunities to save stuff from the house. Then again, they had stopped by a little while before taking Theon and Robb.

"No— not that one," Sour Alyn said. "I want to hear him scream." He dug through the box and came up with a pair of cables. He clacked the ends, grinning at Robb. "How about we clamp these onto those pretty little nipples?"

“Oh yes, that sounds brilliant.” He snatched the clamps on the ends of the cables from him, attaching them to Robb’s nipples. He grinned, watching the little metal teeth dig into the skin.

Robb tried to wiggle away but his back was against the wall, and he discovered that his chain was very short. His chest tightened with anxiety and fear, and watched as they attached the cables to a power box.

“This should be fun, wolf.” He turned back to Sour Alyn. “Turn it up high. Don’t start slow, we don’t want him to adjust.”

Sour Alyn flicked it on, and electric pain immediately shot through Robb's body. He couldn't bite back the scream, loud and choking, and just as suddenly as it had come on, Sour Alyn turned it off again. Robb sank forward, boneless and panting.

"How was that?" Sour Alyn jeered.

Yellow Dick cackled, hearing Theon scream Robb’s name from another room in response to his scream. “You hear that? He’s worried about you!”

He opened his mouth, wanting to call back to him, but the electricity was flicked back on and he was hitching breaths, his brain blanking out as he screamed. It turned off again after five seconds—years—and he drew a shuddering breath, shaking all over, and realized he was on his side. When had he fallen over? He slowly tried to push himself up again, and it was turned on again.

Yellow Dick was laughing- cackling- his expression one of sadistic glee. “That’s right, fucker. Scream.”

He couldn't see, couldn't think, could only scream and scream and scream. When it finally turned off again, he was twitching and gasping, tears all down his cheeks. "Th-Theon," he whimpered, but couldn't bring his voice above that.

“That was nothing, Stark.” Yellow Dick hissed, kneeling beside him, grabbing his chin in a tight hold. “Nothing.”

Robb jerked away, falling back to the floor. His unsteady hands rose to tug at the clamps, but Yellow Dick's hand stopped him.

"Leave them on, little Wolf. It's no fun if you take them off," Sour Alyn said. He flicked the switch again, and they watched as he dissolved into choked cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pop on over to https://archiveofourown.org/works/20220787 now :) -e


	14. Chapter 14

She sensed something was wrong the second she pulled into the driveway. The car was there, and it was the middle of the day, but all the lights were off. They knew what time she’d be returning with Queenie, so she hadn’t been too worried when they’d not replied to her texts, but the front door was slightly ajar and she knew something was wrong. She parked, staying locked in her car, and pulled out her phone to call Jon. 

It rang twice before he picked up, and she kept her voice as calm as possible. 

“Jon? Has Robb picked up Grey Wind yet?”

"No. I was actually about to call him and see what was up." Squealing puppies could be heard in the background of the call, and Jon shuffling the pups in his arms. "Sorry, Sans. They're getting bigger, and really wiggly. Did you just drop off Queenie?"

“Actually... that’s why I was calling.” Sansa took a deep breath, sighing. “I think something is wrong. Neither was replying to my texts- you know Theon, he always loses it over pictures I send him of Queenie at the spa. And now I’m at the apartment, and their car is here, but the lights are off and the door is open.” 

Jon paused. "I'll grab Grey Wind and head right over. Don't go in yet, just keep the girls safe and keep an eye on the door. I'll be there soon."

“I’m locked in the car. Please hurry. If something happened...” She trailed off. “Alright, Jon. Bye now. See you soon.” She placed her phone down, pulling Queenie into her lap. 

Lady made a high, keening whine in the backseat and climbed up front, her dainty frame squirming between the seats with ease. She circled and lay on the passenger seat with her legs hanging off the edge and her head resting on the center console. She gazed with dark-eyed worry at the apartment and whined again, louder and more insistent this time.

“I know, Lady. Just wait for Jon.” Sansa sighed, relaxing into the seat until her eyes caught on something. She sat up straight, carefully moving Queenie over to sit on the seat with Lady. There were red splotches on the porch and the gravel of the driveway. Reddish brown, like dried blood. Her eyes widened and her pulse quickened, and she prayed for Jon to be there soon. 

He was there within ten minutes, and the moment he opened the door, Grey Wind was clambering over him and bounding out of the car. He trotted right up to Sansa's car, circling around it and barking up at them. Lady sat up and barked right back, tail wagging. 

"Hey!" Jon said, coming around to Sansa's side as she opened the door.

Sansa scooped Queenie back up and stepped out, eyes wide and wet with worry. “Jon. There’s blood. There’s blood, do you see it? I think something happened.” 

Grey Wind, after greeting Lady, began sniffing his way up the driveway, barking at the from door. 

"Blood?" Jon turned and looked, and spotted the dark splotches up the driveway. Grey Wind had his nose down now, sniffing madly at the blood spots on the porch. He slowly grew still, sniffed once more, and lifted his head to stare at them both. He whined loudly. Jon swallowed.

She let the wolf dog in first, following after and turning every light on along the way. The worried feeling in the pit of her stomach grew worse and worse as she followed the dog and the blood, finally reaching the bedroom. 

She walked to the other side of the bed and screamed. On the floor was a puddle of blood, a shattered phone, and a bullet. 

Jon stared with wide eyes at the sight. "We... We need to call the police. They can test the blood and see whose it is?" His brain was racing, trying to rationalize what to do. What if his brother was dead? What if Theon was dead? Grey Wind was sniffing at the blood, whining louder than ever. That was Theon's phone, though. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That smashed bullet... "They can trace the bullet, can't they?"

She nodded hurriedly, pulling her phone out and dialing the cops with trembling fingers. She held her phone up to her ear, anxiously waiting for them to pick up, then quickly began to explain the situation once they did. She had to repeat herself, to speak more slowly, but soon enough they assured her they had some officers on the way and she was able to hang up. 

Jon leaned forward and caught Grey Wind by the collar, hauling him back and away from the evidence. "We should get out," he said. "Before they get here. We've already messed up the..." He trailed off before he could say 'crime scene'. What if they were dead? He didn't want to think about that.

“No, we need to stay. Jon, we need to.” She pleaded, clutching Queenie tightly to her chest. The little dog squirmed and whined, as if she knew what was going on. 

"We have to get out of this room. Grey Wind, stop!" he said sharply, tightening his grip on the dog's collar. He kept trying to wrench away and return to the congealed blood puddle.

“Fine. Let’s just... wait on the porch.” Sansa went to leave, but as a second thought she went to the closet, grabbing one of Theon’s oldest, most worn hoodies. She used it to swaddle Queenie, and the fluff ball calmed down significantly, sniffing happily at the fabric. 

Grey Wind came most reluctantly, turning his head back and still whining. Lady padded along obediently at Sansa's side, and settled down on the porch beside them. Grey Wind lay down, his nose at the dried blood, and stared forlornly up at Jon. He felt a twinge of guilt, but Jon was more worried about the wellbeing of his brother and friend than anything else.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” Sansa cooed to Queenie, who didn’t seem all that bothered now that she could smell her daddy all around her. “That’s right, stay nice and cozy in your daddy’s hoodie, that’s a good girl.” She then offered a gentle smile to Lady. “You’re also being a very good girl.” She told her. 

There were sirens and flashing lights within minutes, and a handful of officers spilled from the cars as soon as they parked. Jon ushered the dogs out of the way as they went inside, Lieutenant Tarth among them. A small forensics team went in after them, and Jon and Sansa moved off the small porch to make way. 

"Do you think it was Ramsay?" Jon asked quietly. "He did escape..

“It had to be. Who else would do this?” Sansa rocked Queenie in her arms as if she were a baby. 

"I don't know," he said. He finally let go of Grey Wind's collar and the wolfdog paced around them, nosing at the scattered bloody patches. Lady whined, watching him.

After a few long minutes, Lieutenant Tarth came out, followed by a few others carrying smalls bags that Sansa assumes contained evidence. The officer looked down at them, not bothering to smile. 

“Obviously, I think you know who our main suspect is.” She said simply. 

"Ramsay," Jon said with a flat expression. 

"That's what we were just saying," Sansa added, wringing her hands.

“We’re not sure where he is. We can analyze the tire treads in the driveway as well, as they seem to have left rather quick. I’m not sure if it will help much to find them, but it’s something.” 

"Anything you can do will help." Jon thought for a moment, anxious. "All that blood... And the bullet. You can test and see whose blood, right?"

“Of course. We took plenty of samples. We also found a bullet, and some shards of glass, as well as a shattered phone and some other things.” Lieutenant Tarth reassured him. 

"Thank you for coming so fast," he said, voice steady despite his roiling gut. Sansa murmured her agreement. He just hoped it didn't take as long to find them as it did for Theon to be rescued last time.

“You’re welcome.” She offered a weak, awkward smile. Sansa returned it, and would’ve given her a hug if her arms were not full of Pomeranian. 

"I'll keep in touch, okay? Let you know when we're making headway," Tarth told them.

“Thank you. You know my number, and my mom’s.” Sansa replied, then her eyes went wide and she looked to Jon. “Mom. We have to tell her.” 

"You should," he said, deflecting. They all had dinner there every Sunday night, but he was still uncomfortable with Catelyn, and she with him.

“Please come with me, Jon. Please.” She reached out, using one arm to still cradle Queenie, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"Okay." All his resolve wilted the moment she pleaded. "I'll come. I just don't want to talk to her." Lieutenant Tarth was walking away, rejoining her team and speaking quietly with several of them. One of the forensics people had a baggie with a blood sample.

“I can’t talk to her alone.” Sansa headed back to the cars, letting Lady inside the back of hers and placing the swaddled Queenie on the passenger seat. “Follow me in your car?” 

"Yeah," Jon said. Grey Wind trotted reluctantly after him, glancing back periodically at the blood in the driveway until they drove away.

The drive home was short, but felt like forever, and Sansa was in tears by the time they got there. She remembered what Theon had looked like when he’d first gotten home, she had nightmares about it sometimes, where he showed up and she came to the door to late and he was gone, or where he was injured much worse and died. She didn’t want him in that position again, scared and hurt, and she didn’t want Robb like that either. She parked, scooped up Queenie and the hoodie she had wiggled out of, and waited outside the car for Jon to park with Lady standing beside her. 

He pulled in barely a minute later, with Grey Wind hopping out and bounding a circle around the car before loping up to the porch. Jon let Sansa lead the way, being that she still lived here and she would be welcome. Catelyn was at the kitchen table, filling out paperwork and documents on her laptop.

“Mom!” Sansa blurted out, placing Queenie on the floor and hurrying up to her. “Mom, it’s Robb and Theon. They’re missing.” 

Catelyn looked up, her jaw dropping. "What? When did that happen?" She stood, catching Sansa by the hands. Jon hovered awkwardly behind them. "What happened?"

“I don’t know.” She squeezed her mother’s hands, tears dripping more steadily down her cheeks now as it all really set in that they were gone again. “We went to drop the dogs off and there was blood all the way out the door, and a puddle in the bedroom, and bullets and they left their phones behind.”

Catelyn drew back, putting a hand over her mouth. "Oh, dear gods..." she murmured. "No, not my boy. How much blood was there, Sansa?"

"Not enough to be fatal," Jon piped up. "But..."

“But it was still a lot.” Sansa finished. “And- and you know Ramsay and the other three guys escaped from jail fairly recently. What if they took them? We called the cops, but... Mom, they’re engaged, they were planning their wedding and now they’re missing, a-and I don’t know where they are-“ Her voice cracked and she practically flung herself at Catelyn, wrapping her arms around her and letting out a soft sob. 

"They'll catch them," she said. "They'll find them, and they'll be okay." But her voice was wavering and she suddenly looked years older and so weary, so defeated and miserable. Jon looked away, not wanting to bear witness.

“They’ve been so happy,” Sansa cried, “And now they’re missing and left a puddle of blood behind. They don’t even have their phones.” 

"They're strong, sweetheart. They'll pull though, they'll be okay." It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than like she truly believed the words.

She tightened her arms around her mother. “We’ve seen what Ramsay Bolton is capable of. And he liked Theon. He hates Robb, mom, what will he do to him? What if he’s dead?” Her voice shook and cracked terribly. 

"He can't be," Catelyn murmured, shaking her head. Not so soon, at least. He just couldn't be. 

Jon shifted awkwardly, not wanting to speak up again, but not wanting to keep standing there in silence.

“I just can’t believe they’re gone.” Sansa said, her voice quiet. She finally pulled away from her mom, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She turned back to Jon. “You can go now, thank you.” 

Once he left, she scooped up Queenie in her arms and walked with Lady up to her room.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The *** is at the start of any graphically violent or rape scenes, and the *** is also at the end of these scenes. So you can search the page for *** so you can skip it. It may break with the flow/format, but I’d rather that than have people have to skip whole chapters, or to be triggered by the content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a non violent rape scene

"Wake up, sweet pet..." 

The door opened and the light turned on, but it was a soft and warm light unlike Robb's bright and harsh. Ramsay peeked in at Theon, curled up on the cot, and smiled to himself. Carrying a plastic pack of cereal, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a loud click.

Theon pulled the blanket up over his head, keeping his eyes shut. He remained silent. 

"Pup," he tried again, moving closer. When he still didn't receive an answer, he felt a twinge of annoyance and walked up alongside the bed, tugging the blanket back.

Theon whined, barely audible, and flipped over so his back was to Ramsay. 

Ramsay touched his shoulder, his grip just heavy enough to serve as a warning. "Wake up, pup," he said, more firmly this time.

Theon faked an obnoxious and obviously not real snore, shaking Ramsay’s hand off him. He didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to hear him or smell him or be touched by him. 

Ramsay climbed onto the cot, rolling Theon onto his back and touching his cheek. "I know you're awake," he said quietly. "Look at me, pup."

Theon whined, but finally opened his eyes, looking reluctantly up at Ramsay. When he finally spoke, it was to ask, “How’s Robb?” 

"Haven't seen him," he said airily. "I don't care about him, only you, pup. You didn't eat yesterday, so I brought you some food today. No tray though, don't worry. That didn't work out for you, did it?"

Theon huffed, went silent, and once again turned onto his side so that his back was to Ramsay. If he had nothing to say about Robb, Theon didn’t care to speak with him at all. 

Ramsay ground his teeth and flipped him back again, holding him still. "He's alive," he said curtly. "That's what you want to know, right?"

He hesitated, but then nodded. “I want to see him.” 

"I'll take you to him," he said slowly. "If you do something for me, first."

Theon perked up at that, eyes wide and focusing on Ramsay’s face. “What is it?” 

"Kiss me, sweet pup." His pale eyes trailed over Theon's upturned face, mentally ravishing him. "Like you did before, remember? We had it good, didn't we?"

Theon shifted uncomfortably, his mind flitting back to when Ramsay had asked for a kiss in the bathroom so many years ago, only to kiss him again and threaten him after. “... and then you’ll take me to Robb?” 

"Yes," he replied. He brushed his fingers over the soft skin of Theon's cheek, cupping his face.

Theon took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself, before closing his eyes and leaning in. He pressed his lips to Ramsay’s, not pulling away abruptly, hoping that a simple kiss would do the trick. 

Ramsay pulled him up so abruptly that Theon fell against his chest, and Ramsay tilted his chin up to deepen the kiss, holding him close so he couldn't wrench away.

Theon whimpered against him, squirming, trying to turn his head away but finding himself unable to fight Ramsay’s grip. He didn’t want to kiss him, he should’ve known this would happen, but Robb- he’d see Robb... he let himself relax a bit, and reluctantly kissed Ramsay back, reminding himself why he was doing it. To see Robb. 

After an excruciatingly long minute, Ramsay let him go. He wiped saliva from his lip and smirked down at him. "You're so good, pup."

Theon looked back at him, his expression cold. “Bring me to Robb now.” 

Ramsay's smirk broadened as he stood up, and for a second it seemed as though he would leave without following through. However, he knelt and unfastened the chain from the post.

Theon breathed a sigh of relief, scrambling up from the cot. His hands were still cuffed together, but not to the pole, so he followed Ramsay toward the door. 

Ramsay held the chain tight in his hands like a leash, allowing him about a foot of slack. They went down the short hallway and at the end was a single door, which he opened to reveal a pitch dark room. Robb was still dressed only in his boxers, though at this point Theon had been given some of Ramsay's clothing to wear. He was chained by his wrists to a short post in the ground, with the chain being only a few feet long. His wounded leg was stretched out before him and his head was lolled to one side, drawing in uneven breaths as he dozed.

“Robb!” Theon practically screamed, running to him. He yelped when the chain stopped just a bit too short, yanking him back so he fell on his ass. His eyes went wide and he looked from Robb to Ramsay, then back to Robb, grabbing the chain in his hands and tugging it. “Let me go to him!” 

Robb stirred at the disturbance, his eyes blinking open and squinting in the sudden light. "T-Theon?" he murmured. "Wha...?" Then it seemed to click. "Theon!" He sat forward, trying to reach out to him, but the short chain and his limited mobility would not allow it. Ramsay kept his own tight grip on Theon's chain, not allowing him any closer.

“Rams, let me go!” Theon snapped, pulling at it again, tears welling up in his eyes. He was so close, so fucking close, Robb was right there- his love was right in front of him, in pain, and he couldn’t reach him. His lower lip began to tremble and he took in a sharp breath. “Let me go to him!” 

"I said I'd could take you to him," Ramsay said, totally nonchalant. "Didn't say anything about anything else. You'll have to do something else for me, if you want that."

Theon whimpered, dropping his hands to his sides. “Fine. What do you want?” 

"Make love to me," he said, catching one of his hands. His eyes glinted. "Prove to me, to yourself, to him that you still love me. You always will, pet."

“I- what? I- can’t it be something else? Ram- Ramsay, I don’t- I’m too tired, I- can’t I do something else?” He didn’t want to, didn’t want to fuck Ramsay or kiss him or even touch him. 

"I think it's a fair exchange," he said. "Touching me and touching Stark..." 

"Thee, no!" Robb cried. "Don't."

Theon froze for a moment, gaze flitting all over the room, taking note of Ramsay’s loosened grip on the chain. He leaned forward, tilting his head as if the kiss Ramsay, waiting for Ramsay to close his eyes... he then surged toward Robb, yanking the chain, reaching out and letting out a shaky, pleased sigh when he was able to tangle his fingers in Robb’s hair, gently combing them through the knots. 

Ramsay balled the chain up in his fists and yanked him back hard so he fell on his ass, then again so he was tugged backwards over the floor. "No!" he shouted.

Theon yelped, straining, trying to get back to Robb. “Let go! Let me go, you sick bastard! Let go!” He screamed, tugging at it again. 

"Naughty pup," he snapped. "Come on, back up. I love you, pup, but there's conditions here. There has to be conditions."

"Theon," Robb said pitifully, staring up at him. He was so close...

“I want Robb!” Theon snarled, yanking furiously at the chain. “I don’t love you! I don’t!” 

"You do! You always did, you always told me!" Ramsay scooped him up, holding him so his cuffed wrists were trapped and immobile. "You're supposed to."

“I don’t! I was scared of you! Let go of me! Let go!” Theon thrashed against his hold, glaring furiously at him. 

Ramsay started to carry him away, and Robb thrashed against his chain, straining to get towards Theon.

"Theon!" 

"We can go back to how it was, pup. Don't you miss that? I do."

“Let go of me! Let go!” Theon kept thrashing, tears now streaming down his face. “I want Robb! I want him, not you! Let go of me! I love Robb!” 

"No, you don't. He stole you from me, pup. Remember how he hurt you? He's never loved you, not like I do." Ramsay said this as he carried Theon out, and he slammed the door shut as Robb shrieked his protests.

“You cut my fucking fingers off!” Theon shrieked, but he quickly lost the fight after he couldn’t see Robb anymore. His crying worsened. “I’ll fuck you, okay? I-I’ll have sex with you, just let me be with him again.”

***

Ramsay let him down gently, but took the chain from his wrist cuffs and wrapped it around the doorknob, pulling it tight. He nudged Theon back against the door, leaning in to kiss him.

Theon’s back thunked against the door and he whimpered, reluctantly kissing back. He would get to see Robb, to touch him... but he’d have to cheat on him for it. Robb would be so disappointed, and the thought caused the tears to stream more thickly down his cheeks. He needed to see him, though, needed to touch him and hold him and make sure he was okay. He needed to be with Robb, and if letting Ramsay have his way with him was how he’d get that... 

Ramsay's hands wandered down Theon's chest, pushing up the hem of his borrowed shirt. He propped his leg between Theon's, having him grind against his thigh, and nipped gently at Theon's lip.

Theon whined, squirming, not liking that there was only a single layer of lace between his cock and Ramsay’s leg. He pulled back from the kiss, inhaling sharply. “Just- just get it over with.” 

"That wouldn't be good for you, though, would it?" Ramsay murmured, moving to mark up his throat with hickeys. "I want you to feel good, little pup."

“I like it rough.” Theon retorted. It wasn’t really true, not anymore, not after how Ramsay had treated him three years before. He liked it how it was with Robb, gentle and loving but still hard and fast and brilliant. Perfect. The polar opposite of Ramsay. 

"No, you don't. You always cried when I took you rough," Ramsay said. "Besides, I want to take my time with you." He pulled back and tugged the shirt off over Theon's head, tossing it to the floor. At the sight of the kraken tattoo covering his name, Ramsay scowled but didn't say a word. Instead he kissed it, tracing along where the letters could still be felt while his hand slipped into Theon's underwear.

Theon shuddered, the gentle tracing of his fingertips feeling more like the sharp edge of a knife. He knew the letters Ramsay was tracing and it made him feel sick, but he was quickly distracted when Ramsay’s palm pressed against his cock. He yelped in surprise, squirming, embarrassed by the blood flowing down to his groin. 

"There you are," he murmured, grinning. He stroked along Theon's length, feeling him slowly grow hard under his hand. "Sweet pup."

“N-no...” Theon whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut, his cheeks flushing bright red. It was for Robb. It would be okay. It was just one time, then he’d be with Robb for a while. 

"Say you love me, pup." He coaxed him to an erection, before sliding his hand around to his ass, parting his cheeks with his fingers.

“No.” Theon snapped, yelping when he felt one of Ramsay’s fingers brush over his hole. He squirmed, keeping his eyes shut. 

"Come on, pretty pet. I love you. You love me too, don't you?" His voice was low and melodic. He toyed against the edge of his hole, before skirting back and reaching into his sweatshirt pocket for a bottle of lube.

Theon swallowed hard, opening his eyes a little and seeing the bottle of lube. He didn’t want it, he didn’t, and he let out a soft sob at the fact that it was going to happen. He was going to let Ramsay have his way with him. 

And he did. 

It was horrible, sickening, and even as he came he spent the whole time feeling as if he might vomit. He hated it, Ramsay on him, in him, come dripping from his hole. He hated that it felt good, that he’d been forced to like it. When Ramsay finally pulled out, Theon was sobbing, hugging himself as fat tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. 

***

"Don't cry, little pup, I was gentle. Wasn't I?" Ramsay brushed under Theon's eyes with the edge of his sleeve, catching his tears. "I love you."

“B-bring me to Robb. Please.” Theon’s voice was lacking all the anger and confidence it had held before. 

Ramsay sighed. "You're still...? Okay, pup. Just because you've been so good." He turned Theon around, unwrapping the chain from the doorknob and turning it, letting Theon walk in. He was a delicious mess, with Ramsay's semen dripping down his inner thighs and finger-shaped bruises on his hips. Robb stared at him with wide, desperate eyes as he stumbled towards him.

Theon’s sobbing only worsened as he saw Robb, and he hurried over to him, dropping to his knees beside him. “I’m sorry, Robb, I’m sorry, I- I just wanted to hold you, I’m sorry...” 

Robb leaned into him, eyes closing in relief. "Whatever happened isn't your fault, Thee. You didn't do anything wrong. I love you, so much. So much," he whispered.

Theon slowly moved to sit on his butt on the floor instead of kneeling, moving so close that their thighs were touching. “I let him fuck me. I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry, please don’t hate me. Please don’t not want me anymore. I just wanted to see you. He said he’d let me.” 

"I know, Thee." He could hear every thump against the door and traitorous moan from Theon's lips, but he held nothing against him. "It's not your fault." His consent was coerced from him, Ramsay raped him. How could Robb blame him?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He leaned in, resting his head against Robb’s shoulder, then moving to hide his face against his chest. “Please still love me.”

"I'll always love you," Robb said. He couldn't hug him, but he wanted to. Ramsay was leaning back against the wall, watching with a raised eyebrow, and Robb scowled at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Robb, I feel so filthy- so filthy, I’m so gross. I’m so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He blabbered, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. 

"You're not filthy," Robb murmured. "I love you. You're sweet and perfect, and I'd do anything for you."

“I just wanted to be able to touch you. I’m sorry.” Theon moved his face up, nuzzling at the nape of his neck, lips ghosting over the skin, whispering, “I love you. You’re still my fiancé. He doesn’t have the ring, and he can’t change that.” 

"The ring doesn't matter. I'm yours, and you're mine. We know that, and I love you. You love me. That's all that matters," Robb said. "He can't take that away us, not that too."

“What if I break again?” Theon murmured. 

"I'll keep by you, and put you back together again. No matter how long it takes, I'll be there for you."

“I’m scared, Robb. I’m scared.” He whimpered. 

"I know, baby. I'm sorry, I'm—"

Ramsay stepped forward and picked up Theon's chain. "Come on, pup. Times up. Back to your room."

“No! You said you’d let me see him!” Theon protested, choking on a sob as he was tugged out of reach of Robb. 

"I did. You had ten minutes," Ramsay said. He scooted Theon backwards, farther and farther away from Robb.

“That’s not long enough!” He tugged back at the chain, trying in vain to get back to Robb. 

"You'll have other opportunities, little pup," Ramsay said, scooping up Theon into his arms. "Back to your room, okay?"

Theon curled up in his arms as they left Robb’s room, his body shaking as he cried, eyes tightly shut. He wanted Robb. He didn’t want Ramsay, he hated him, hated the gross, sticky, cooling and drying come dripping down his thighs. “Why are you doing this?” 

"I'm just trying to show you that you don't need him," Ramsay soothed. He carried him back to Theon's room, and nudged the door open and shut again with his foot. He sat down on Theon's cot, still holding him close against his chest. "You're my sweet pup."

Theon hated himself for it, hated Ramsay for it, but he stayed curled up against his chest as he cried. He needed comfort, even if he hated who it was coming from. “If you love me, why- why does everything you ever do hurt me?” 

"It's for your own good," Ramsay replied, rubbing Theon's back as he cried into his chest. "You don't understand it now because Stark has you conditioned, but everything I'm doing is for the best. All for you, pup."

Ramsay was wrong, and Theon knew it this time. He was wrong. Robb didn’t have him conditioned, Robb loved him- Ramsay was the one who tried to condition him. Nonetheless, he remained silent, and soon found himself passing out in Ramsay’s arms with tears still fresh on his cheeks.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no *** sections in this chapter

Ramsay woke him later that day with a gentle shake of the shoulder. "Morning, pup," he said with a teasing grin. As Theon's eyes blearily opened, he showed him the plastic pack of cereal from earlier. "I have a treat for you, but first you need to eat something. Can you do that for me?"

“Wha- whats the treat?” Theon groaned, slowly sitting up, his hair messy and cheeks flushed with sleep.

"I'll tell you after you've eaten, okay?" He produced a water bottle too, holding it out for Theon to take. The thin plastic crinkled under his grip. "I promise you'll like it."

“No.” Theon turned away from him, hands under the blankets at his sides.

Ramsay's smile dropped and he grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him over again. The chain clinked against the post as it moved. "It's not a request, pet."

Theon glared at him, and there was dark hatred in his eyes. “No.” He repeated.

Ramsay grumbled, grabbing him by the chin and turning his face upwards. "You're not starving yourself this time, pup. Come on." It wasn't even dog food this time, it was a kind of marshmallow and honey oats cereal that he knew Theon loved. It had been in the cabinet at the apartment he shared with Stark.

“I’m not the one who decided to fucking starve last time.” Theon spat, eyes narrowing even more. He was angry, and thought for a moment of how proud Varys would be of him. He was being strong, holding his ground.

"You threw up when I tried to feed you," Ramsay retorted. He peeled back the lid on the container and dipped a spoon into the cereal.

“Put that in my mouth and I will spit it right back at you.” Theon threatened.

"You'll eat what I give you," Ramsay growled. With great effort, he schooled his expression into a more pleasant one. "I don't have any milk, though, so you'll have to eat it dry."

“I won’t eat it if I don’t want.” Theon snarled. “And you can’t make me.”

"I could, if I wanted to. I could force it right down your throat," Ramsay snapped. But he wouldn't do that, he couldn't. That wasn't what people in love did. He didn't think so, anyways; it wasn't like he had a whole lot of positive role models as a kid, and he had never really learned how to love somebody.

“You won’t.” Theon argued. He wouldn’t back down.

"You're right. I won't." Ramsay sat back, gritting his teeth. He couldn't, anyway. "Don't you think Stark would want you to eat, though?"

That made Theon hesitate, but... “Too bad. I’m not eating.”

"He's eating, of course," Ramsay went on like an afterthought. "But if you don't want to eat, he may as well stop too. Wouldn't want him fat and happy while you're starving yourself, right? That's not what I want for my pup."

“No!” Theon went pale, reaching for the cereal. “I’ll eat. I will. I’m sorry. I-I’m being bad, I’ll be good, okay? I’ll eat?”

And Ramsay smiled at him, a sort of dark satisfaction in his eyes and love in his expression as Theon ate, body trembling in fear.

* * *

Upstairs, Damon was laying on his back on the floor with little Stepphie on his belly. She was getting bigger, and he was taking pictures of her and Skinner all the time on a little digital camera he’d bought. Right now, however, the camera was across the room and his hands were busy petting the little kitten.

Skinner joined him, carrying a plate of scrambled eggs and sausage. "I made breakfast," he announced, waving the plate so the aroma wafted in Damon's nose. He sat down with the plate and two forks in his lap, grumbling. "I hate this kitchen. Hate this house, it's so small and shitty. Smells bad, and it's always so fucking foggy outside. Can't see for shit. I wanna go home."

“Me too! Stepphie too!” Damon exclaimed, sitting up and lifting the cat by her armpits. “Look! She wants to go home! Now give her sausage.”

Skinner cut a little piece off the sausage patty and offered it to the kitten. She gobbled it up with quick little bites and licked her lips with her tiny pick tongue. "Sweet girl," he praised, booping her nose.

“I love her.” Damon sighed, settling her down on his lap again. “She’s such a sweet little girl.”

"I love you," Skinner said, gazing at Damon. "Sometimes I think we should just leave. Fuck this place and whatever Rams is trying to do. Get out of here and go home. That's what I want to do." He settled back again, looking morose. "I don't want to get caught. Not again."

“If things get too risky, we will. We’ll run away, back to the farm where it’s safe. We won’t stay if it gets too risky.” Damon promised, absentmindedly stroking Stephanie’s back.

"Yeah," Skinner sighed. "Just hope it doesn't come to that. I don't want to leave him behind, either," he said. "Ramsay, I mean. Or the others."

“Eh... to be honest, I wouldn’t mind ditching Sour Alyn. He’s been really creeping me out lately.” Damon paused, grimacing. “The other day I got out of the shower and he was in the fucking bathroom, staring at me.”

"What the fuck?" Skinner shook his head. "He's... Okay, if he gets worse, we'll ditch him. That's weird as shit."

“If he tries anything I’ll kill him my damn self.” Damon stood up, moving to sit on the bed with Skinner. Stephanie moved onto his lap instead.

"I'd like to see that," Skinner said, a playful smirk on his lips. "Damon versus Sour Alyn: who will win? My money's on you."

“‘Course it is.” Damon grinned, leaning in and planting a soft kiss on Skinner’s lips.

Skinner smirked broader, pushing him back so he fell against the cheap mattress. Stephanie mewled, splaying her paws over Damon's belly and stretching out. Skinner lay beside him.

"I think I miss it sometimes," he said. "The way things were, you know? The hunting and meaningless shit day after day. Sometimes I want to go back. Sometimes I don't. I dunno. I don't want to go through that again. Losing you. This is safer. The farm is safe."

“I don’t want to go back.” Damon replies, reaching out to softly caress Skinner’s cheek. His expression was soft, blue eyes clouded with affection. “I don’t want to do what we did anymore. I just want to raise my son with you.”

"Daughter," he corrected automatically. Skinner sighed. "I don't think we're going to be getting home anytime soon. Not since he grabbed the Wolf, too."

“Everything feels different now, Skinner. After prison.” He trailed his hand up, brushing his fingers through his lover’s sandy blonde hair.

"Different for me, too. I didn't go to prison, but..." Skinner closed his eyes, basking in the touch. "I missed you so much. I still can't believe you're home. It doesn't feel real."

“This isn’t home.” Damon sighed, moving his hand away and letting it fall limp onto the bed. “We’re not safe here.”

"We're safe, we just have to be careful. Protect ourselves, and Stepphie." Skinner stroked her velvety nose and she purred happily, kneading her paws into Damon's belly.

“Look at her!” Damon gasped, smiling brightly at the little kitten pushing her paws against him. “I love her. I love her so much.”

"She's a cutie," Skinner said appreciatively. He made a kissy face at her and scritched her chin, making her purr even louder.

Damon smiled at her for a little longer before his expression morphed into something more serious, and he looked over to Skinner. “I don’t feel good here, Skinner.”

"Me neither," he confessed. "We'll be fine, though. Just give it some more time. This shitty ass little house can rot though, for all I care."

“No, Skinner, I mean... I don’t feel right. I don’t- we have two of Ramsay’s fucking toys in the basement, and I’m not excited at all. I don’t feel like hurting them.”

"Then don't. Nothing wrong with that, I guess." Skinner yawned. "I'm not hurting the kid, I mean. Same shit I did last time."

“You did hurt him last time. We both did. I feel sick here. Physically sick. I don’t feel like myself anymore. I don’t want to go back to how it was before, how it was all my life. I’m fucking- I’m fucked up, Skinner, my heads all fucked and I don’t know what I feel and what I want, I’m so confused and it’s making me feel sick.” He carefully sat up, moving Stephanie over onto Skinner’s belly instead. “I hate this. I fucking hate this. Being in prison should’ve made me angry, should’ve made me want revenge, but now the fucker is here and I don’t even want to hurt him? No, I- fuck, Skinner. We should. We should go down there and skin him, take him apart piece by piece, break him down again.” Something dangerous flashed in Damon’s eyes, a sort of urge he hadn’t felt in a while. “I’m not soft, and neither are you. We hurt people. That’s what we do. Prison can’t change that, and neither can love.”

Skinner swallowed thickly, eyes glinting with a hint of the old sadism. "Ramsay would flay us alive if we touch him," he said quietly. He sat up as well, staring at Damon. "But it's what he deserves, isn't it? He did this to us."

Damon carefully moved Stephanie onto the floor, shifting himself to sit on Skinner’s lap. “He did this to us.” He agreed, voice dangerously close to a growl. “He tore me away from you. He tore all of us apart. He should have died. He’s ruined Ramsay, and he would ruin all of our lives again in an instant.”

"We need him gone," Skinner muttered. "Maybe if he's gone, Ramsay will get over this and we can kill the Stark too, to tie up loose ends." He chuckled wryly. "Then burn this shithole down and run for our lives back to Essos."

“Yes baby, keep talking dirty to me like that.” Damon teased, grinning wickedly. “Kill them. Both of them. Make them pay.”

"We could just burn the place down while everyone else is outside," he snickered. "No dogs to worry about this time, they're all safe home. We just have to get Ramsay outside. And Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn."

“We’re gonna let Luton die?” Damon laughed, corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Fuck, I forgot to say him, didn't I?" Skinner grinned. "Guess he'll just have to figure his own way out, then."

“Can we leave Sour Alyn behind instead?”

"His love for you will lead him out to safety." Skinner shook his head in mock-grief. "I'm afraid it's not possible."

“Oh gods.” Damon groaned, shaking his head. “No. No. It would be his want to fuck me, not love.”

"Fine. His lust for you." Skinner shrugged. "Not like it'll do anything for him, you're mine. All mine."

Stephanie let out a piercing mew, stretching her paws up the side of the bed and sinking her claws into the sheets, climbing her way up. Her round blue eyes stared wistfully at them, and she mewled again.

“Oh, Stepphie. I love you, sweet girl, I’m sorry.” He helped her the rest of the way up, placing her on his lap between him and Skinner. “Sweet little kitty. My sweet baby.”

She mewed again, louder and more insistently, and Skinner reached down to give her some pets. "By the time we get out of here, she won't be a baby anymore," he complained. "Ben won't even recognize her."

“We won’t stay here that long.” Damon argued, reaching down to scratch behind one of her tiny ears with a single finger. “She’s a tiny girl, a sweet girl. Just a little baby.”

"You don't know that for sure. Rams wasn't supposed to keep the kid as long as he did last time, remember? What's to say he won't end up keeping them for months this time?"

“We, Skinner. You and I won’t stay here that long.” He promised.

"We won't." Skinner couldn't help but wonder how they would get home; they couldn't take the boat, not without screwing over Ramsay and the others. They could always go out by the Mole's Town docks and just find a new boat, but it was risky. Still, it worked for the group of them, and if it was just Damon and Skinner.... He sighed. It would be best for them all if they could just convince Ramsay to drop this and come home with them.


	17. Chapter 17

A bathroom had never felt so eerie before. The water was pleasantly hot, the light was dim, and the bathtub was surprisingly big. Big enough for two, or so Ramsay had decided. He had Theon in the bath with him, wrists still cuffed with the chain wrapped around the curtain bar. It was slack enough that his hands could rest easily, but he wouldn't be getting far if he tried to run. Ramsay had a nice-smelling body wash lathered on a washcloth, and he was gently washing Theon's chest. 

"How does it feel, pet? Do you like your treat?"

Theon nodded slowly, swallowing hard. All he could think of was Robb, poor Robb who he was sure was not getting any baths at the moment. Even with Ramsay beneath him, holding him, he could only think of Robb. How Ramsay had threatened to starve Robb in retaliation for Theon not eating. What else would he do to Robb to make his pet behave? 

"Your Wolf doesn't smell quite so pretty anymore," he murmured, licking a stripe up Theon's freshly cleaned throat. He nuzzled against him, grinning. "He reeks of sweat, piss, blood, and fear. Nasty, really. But you're pretty, my pet. Pretty and perfect, and you smell like mine again."

“If- If I’m yours- if I agree to be yours, forever- will you let Robb go?” Theon asked, his voice soft and shaking. 

"Yes," Ramsay said. "But I can't do that right away, pup. You know that, don't you? He'd run right to his Wolfpack and cry out for help, and I would lose you again."

“I’ll tell them not to. I’ll write a note. I’ll call them, I- I’ll say I went somewhere willingly, I won’t even mention you. I can just say I moved away.” He turned his head, eyes soft and sea-foam and wide as he looked at Ramsay. 

"They won't buy that, sweet pup. You know that, too. We'd have to keep him at least until we're safe enough, then we can release him."

“Can you at least- don’t hurt him too bad? Then when- when he’s free, it won’t be suspicious?” Theon tried. He squirmed in his lap a little, uncomfortable. 

"We're not leaving any physical marks," Ramsay assured him. "They're mostly playing with electricity right now, and a bit of waterboarding. Needles. Little things here and there, you know? He's fine." Ramsay ran the washcloth down his chest again, washing his lower belly.

“Elect- electrocution? Water boarding?!” Theon yanked at his cuffs, causing the curtain rod to bend dangerously. “No! You can’t. Leave him be. Leave him be, Ramsay! I won’t love you as long as you hurt him!” 

"I'm not hurting him though, pup. Not me. That's all the others. I haven't laid a hand on him." He ran his hands down Theon's body, massaging the washcloth into him.

“I won’t love you as long as they hurt him, then.” Theon lowered the octave of his voice, eyes narrowing. 

"But you already love me, pup. You love me, you're mine forever. Remember?" He draped the cloth over the side of the tub and pulled Theon against him, holding him close.

“I don’t, and I won’t if you keep hurting him. I’ll spend all my time worrying about him, and not loving you.” He threatened. 

"You shouldn't be worrying about him," he said. "He's not too worried about you. He spends all his time crying and begging to go home. He misses his doggie," Ramsay mocked.

“Liar.” Theon spat, squirming again in his arms. “My therapist told me- he told me what you do. You- you lie and manipulate me, and make me feel bad.” 

"Your therapist is a lying sack of piss," Ramsay snarled. "Why should I try and manipulate you? I keep telling you— I love you!"

“I know! I- I know you love me, but you don’t know how to love someone!” Theon whined, still squirming, thrashing against his hold. “You don’t know! You don’t! You- you’re sick!” 

"I'm not sick!" Ramsay snapped. He slid backwards in the tub, dragging Theon down with him with his arms wrapped more securely around Theon's chest. Only their heads and shoulders were above the water now.

“No one loved you, no one except me, ever, a-and you don’t know how it works! You don’t! You don’t know, because no one loved you!” Theon was beginning to cry, fat tears building in the corners of his eyes. “You- you don’t hurt someone you love! You don’t break them, a-and make them wish they were dead!” 

Ransay opened his mouth to contest that, but the words died on his lips. He wanted to say that his mother had loved him, but he couldn't say that with confidence. His father, hells no. The boys? Sure, of course, but it was different with them.

"So what if it's just you? You'll just have to teach me."

“I would’ve. Before you ruined me.” Theon finally lowered his voice, and it shook with each word once he did. “But- But I love Robb. I- you could find someone. If you were good to them. But I- I’m just scared of you. I’m scared.” 

Ramsay shook his head wordlessly. Find someone else? No, Theon was his. Theon was the only one... He flipped Theon over, either ignoring or not noticing how Theon winced as the chain jerked the cuffs. Theon's chest bumped against his and Ramsay caught him, tilting his head to kiss Theon.

Theon immediately turned his head away, swiftly avoiding the kiss. “No.” 

"No?" Ramsay echoed. He grabbed Theon's chin and turned his head back, kissing him forcefully.

Theon fought it, pounding his fists against Ramsay’s chest as best he could with his wrists chained. He couldn’t get away from the kiss until Ramsay pulled away to breath, and by that time, tears were rolling down his cheeks. “No! I don’t want you! I don’t!” 

"You do!" he said fiercely. The water sloshed as he sat up, holding Theon more firmly in his lap. "You just don't remember right now, pup. The Wolf has you fooled."

“Then why has he never had to kidnap me, or hurt me, or force me? Why then? If- if he’s the one fooling me, then why has he never had to trick me and hurt me like you?”

Ramsay shut him up with another bruising kiss, pressing him back against the wall of the tub. "I love you," he said thickly. "Why isn't that enough for you?" He was so confused, truly not understanding. Why was Stark better than him?

“You hurt me! You hurt me, Rams!” Theon squirmed, pushing at him, feeling trapped. “Stop it!” 

"Theon!" he cried finally, holding him still. He scooted backwards in the now lukewarm water, staring at him. "If— If I tell you I'm sorry...?"

“You- you’re sorry? You’re sorry, Ramsay!” Theon let out a choked laugh that sounded more like a sob, holding up his hands. “Look! Look! You- this is what you did. The missing pieces of me. The- the scars, all over my body. A-and you’re sorry? You’re fucking- I- you can’t! You aren’t!” 

"That was before I loved you," Ramsay said painfully. "I didn't know." Besides that, what role models was he supposed to have had? His parents? Damon and Skinner? "You loved me before. Why can't you now?"

“Because of what you did to me.” Theon curled up, folding in on himself as best he could, hanging his head. He wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest, and his shoulders shook as he cried. 

"But I didn't know!" This wasn't fucking fair— He had been a toy then, nothing better, and he didn't know until he'd lost him just what he had had. He wanted, needed, a second chance.

“Do- do you even remember what you did to me? How you- how you kept me tied up alone? Starved me? I- I can’t even remember how many times you raped me, I- I can’t even count.” Theon’s voice cracked, filled with hurt and despair. 

"That was three years ago," Ramsay said, trying to reason with him. He'd already had his revenge; he sent Ramsay off to jail for those three years, and because of that he never got to say goodbye to his Helicent. He'd also said he had a therapist, so he'd had three years to move on from it.

“And did my fingers fucking grow back?” Theon lashed out suddenly, lifting his head to glare at him. 

"Helicent's dead," Ramsay snapped. "While I was locked up, she died. Is that a fair enough exchange for you?"

“My mom died while I was locked up. Is that fair? My fingers. My skin. My fucking- my humanity. My dignity.” Theon spat, eyes red rimmed and narrowed. “You and your boys killed Kyr- you killed Kyra. One of my best friends.” 

"Kyra is alive and safe in Essos," Ramsay countered. "Your mother was near dead already anyways, wasn't she?"

“I hate you.” Theon hissed, and his expression proved his words. There was nothing in the way he looked at Ramsay that showed any affection- it was all hatred and fear. “You- you won’t be loved. You can’t be loved. You’re- you’re unlovable, and you deserve it.” 

_"You still don't understand? You're not built to be loved, Ramsay. Quit trying."_

His father's old words echoed in his head and Ramsay's pulsing temper exploded. He swung a fist at Theon, catching him with a fierce blow to the cheek. "Don't talk to me like that!"

Theon cried out at the hit, reaching up to hold his hands over his cheek where he’d been hit. It was sure to bruise. “This is why! This is why I don’t love you!” 

Ramsay panted harshly, turning as far away from Theon as the bathtub would allow. He stared down into the water, willing the red haze to clear from his vision. After a long minute, he shuddered and forced calm on himself with a smile on his lips. He turned back to Theon, the cooling water sloshing.

"I'm sorry I hit you," he said, sickeningly sweet. "Old memories, you know? I hope you can forgive me." The words hurt like broken glass to get out, but he hoped they at least sounded genuine. Bitter rage still coursed within him, barely quelled. "Let me finish your bath, okay?"

“You want to hit me again.” Theon said, voice whisper soft and fearful. “You’re angry. Don’t lie to me.” 

"I don't," he said. He picked up the washcloth again, dipped it in the sudsy water, and moved towards Theon again to wash his shoulders and arms.

Theon was silent for a bit before he spoke again. “You- do you really want me to teach you how to love?” 

"Yes," Ramsay breathed. He was gentle as ever with the washcloth, cleaning away any speck of dirt from Theon's pale skin.

He looked at him, their eyes locking. “If you love something, let it go.” 

Ramsay grit his teeth and shook his head slowly. "I can't," he hissed. "You know I can't. Theon," he murmured, and the name was like nectar on his lips. "You're mine."

“No, I’m not.” Theon shook his head. “I’m my own, and Robb’s. I’m his because I want to be, not because he forced me.”

"I want you to want to be mine." Ramsay turned him around and fetched a cup from the floor beside the tub. He tilted Theon's head back and poured water down it, soaking his hair.

Theon looked down at his hands, his chained wrists, realization slowly dawning on him. He took a deep breath, though it was also quiet, before lifting his arms and reaching quickly so the chain wrapped against the back of Ramsay’s neck. He brought his hands together, tightening it, squeezing. 

Ramsay thrashed, shoving Theon away instinctively, but the chain only drew tighter around his throat. He choked, letting himself slide back in the water. Ramsay raised his hands and grabbed the chain, forcing it away from his throat enough to breathe, and he glared daggers at the back of Theon's head. He reached out and grabbed the taut length of chain and yanked it hard, sending Theon slipping backwards and jerking it straight from his grasp. Once freed, Ramsay stood up and climbed out of the bathtub. He grabbed a towel from the sink countertop and wrapped it around his waist as Theon sat up, and gave him a look of the deepest betrayal. Something else was there too, and that wasn't bathwater in his eyes. He gave another ragged cough and stormed from the bathroom.

As much as he hated him, as much as he fucking despised him, seeing the tears in Ramsay’s eyes sent a sharp jolt of guilt into his belly that curled and twisted inside him. His lower lip trembled and he was still crying. Why did he feel so guilty? It wasn’t fair. He just wanted to be free, it wasn’t fair, he knew it wasn’t. Varys would tell him, he knew, that this wasn’t his fault, that Ramsay was manipulating him again. 

But Varys wasn’t there, only Theon was, and a nagging voice in the back of his head that he hadn’t heard in a long while was telling him he was bad. Ramsay was right, and he was bad, sick, horrible. Robb was being tortured because of him. How could Robb have ever loved him, really? He was bad, so bad, so weak. Weak, weak... He knew he shouldn’t start breaking down, shouldn’t lose his fight, and yet he opened his mouth anyway and his voice cracked when he called out. 

“Ramsay, wait!” 

Ramsay didn't come, though. Nobody came, and the house beyond the bathroom was quiet. Hours seemed to pass; the bathwater was freezing and Theon was shivering, but finally the door opened. Skinner stepped inside, and when he saw Theon he paused. A million thoughts raced across his face, and he put on a neutral expression. 

"Hey, kid. Did somebody forget about you?" He didn't wait for an answer, merely moving to unwrap the chain from the curtain bar so Theon could get out of the tub, and he handed him a towel.

“He was crying.” Theon murmured, barely audible as he stood and began drying himself off. “Ramsay. He was crying. Where is he?” 

"You don't want to know where he is," Skinner said with a mirthless laugh. He took Theon by the chain and led him along like a dog on a leash, down the narrow hallway and downstairs to Theon's little room in the basement. Skinner reattached the chain to the bed post, tugged it to make sure it was secure, and straightened up. He regarded Theon thoughtfully, green eyes seeming to tear him right apart and stare to his soul. He said nothing.

“Skinner.” Theon looked at him, eyes wide and full of fear. “Where is he? Where’s Ramsay?” 

He said nothing, but his eyes flicked to the right, towards where Robb's room would be. Try as he might, none of the vindictive rage he had felt when speaking with Damon would come to light now, face to face with Theon. 

"He hasn't been in long," he said quietly. "But I suggest you don't listen too closely." Barely a second passed before there was a muffled wail, followed by a large bang and a sharp cry.

“No!” Theon screamed, yanking violently at his chain. “No! Robb!” He pulled again, and again, looking pleadingly over at Skinner. “Please help. Please.”

"Looking to me for help?" Skinner shook his head. "You did it, didn't you? Ramsay walking around with bruises all over his throat. Haven't seen him this upset since he found out about Heli. No, you did it to yourself. I'm not getting involved."

“Please, Skinner!” Theon practically wailed, fresh tears coming to his eyes as he heard more muffled sounds of pain. “Robb didn’t do anything! He’s good! You can- I- I’ll stay, I will, I’ll be good, just help Robb!” 

"He won't kill him," Skinner said, as though this was meant to be comforting. "Not yet, anyways. He'll calm down soon enough, and maybe he'll even let you see him again." There was another bang and a screech of pain. Skinner moved backwards towards the door. "I can't help him, kid. Sorry." But he didn't sound all that sorry, and he was gone with a soft click of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> skip on over to https://archiveofourown.org/works/20334634 for a peek into Ramsay's childhood :) -e


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No *** here just a general warning for violence and torture for the whole chapter

Robb Stark was a mess of a man when Ramsay got to him, but now? Now, he was just a mess. He was shaking and crying, bleeding from thin wounds that would never scar, and he just reeked of fear. He loved the hard curve of his mouth, the self-loathing deep in those pretty eyes because he didn't want to cry, he didn't want to be afraid, but he couldn't stop himself. 

Ramsay lowered the chain to his side. Dark bruises would blossom like flowers by tomorrow, all over the pale, perfect skin of his torso. Robb watched him warily, panting harshly to catch his breath. "Did you like that?" Ramsay asked, voice soft. Robb merely stared at him. "Yeah? I'm going to try something else now, so bear with me if it doesn't hurt right in the beginning, okay? I haven't done this before." Ramsay laughed cruelly. "Normally I don't care much for keeping them pretty. My girls liked the stench of blood and open wounds on them cause it made them easy to hunt, but I won't get to hunt you, little Wolf. Just play. And Theon's asked that I play nice with you." 

"Was it Theon that did that to you?" Robb asked boldly, eyes trailing over the bruises on Ramsay's throat. Ramsay tensed, glaring at him. "That doesn't look like playing nice. But you're doing what he asked you to do?" Robb bit out a harsh laugh. "You've turned into a bitch, Bolton." Ramsay snarled and swung the chain at him. It was shorter and thick, crashing against Robb's chest with a sickening smack. He cried out, thrashing in his binds. 

"Come on, Bolton!" he sneered. "What happened to you? Did prison make you so desperate to be loved?" It was the first time that Ramsay had ever come in to torture Robb himself, and he couldn't help himself from taunting him. Robb wouldn't break. There was no emotional bond between them that Ramsay could manipulate, and there was nothing he could do to him that the others hadn't already done. Or so he thought. "Tough luck, hm? You've lost him. Drove him away." Ramsay struck him again, just for good measure, and tossed the chain to the floor. Robb exhaled shakily, watching Ramsay as he moved. 

Ramsay stepped away from him, going over to the workbench with their little toolbox. Or rather, toybox. He went to a small inner pocket, fetched a needle, and returned to Robb's side. He showed it to him, turning it in his fingers so the point glinted ominously in the dim light. "This is pretty, isn't it? Fresh and clean, never used. You're my first." Ramsay grinned, much too close for Robb's comfort. He stood up again and held the needle between his teeth while he stopped to gather up another loose chain. He wrapped it around the pole behind Robb's head, then wrapped it thrice around his throat and looped the end through the part on the pole, holding Robb's head effectively still while also limiting his breathing. Already, Ramsay could see his breath quickening and pupils dilating in panic. He took the needle in hand again and flashed his teeth in a sharp-edged grin. He teased the needle in a line up Robb's cheek, just breaking the skin, watching a thin trickle of blood well up. Robb twitched, gritting his teeth, but didn't make a sound. 

"What's the matter, Wolf? All screamed out from earlier? Or... Are you afraid to make a sound, because you can hardly breathe and you don't want to risk it?" Ramsay stuck the needle deeper into the wound he had already made. "Your sister has one of these, if I remember correctly?" He leaned in, letting his breath fan, hot and cloying, over Robb's ear as he whispered, "Mine's better." Robb shuddered, trying to flinch away, but he couldn't move.

Ramsay spun the needle in his fingers, poking it contemplatively over the surface of Robb's cheek. He jerked his head to the side, but Ramsay seized him by the hair and forced him still. He slid his hand down his cheek in a mocking gesture of care, then grabbed him by the jaw and forced his mouth open. Robb made a startled, questioning sound followed by a sharp cry as Ramsay stabbed the needle through Robb's tongue. 

"Ever considered getting it pierced?" Ramsay asked, wiggling the needle. It had gone all the way through, and he slipped the needle to tug out the other side, before plunging it though again to pierce a second hole, and then a third and a fourth. Robb whimpered, screwing his eyes shut. Ramsay tsked. "No, no, I don't think so." He took the bloody needle and poked at Robb's eyelid. He gasped, swallowing thickly around the blood in his mouth. "Like that? Come on, Stark. Let's see how loud the Young Wolf can howl, okay? I had you going earlier, with the chain. Can we beat that?"

"I won't," Robb bit out. Ramsay smirked.

"We'll see." He poked the needle on his eyelids again, pinching with his other hand at the other. Robb whimpered again; he couldn't help it. Blood from his punctured tongue was filling his mouth with an acrid taste and he swallowed it back again, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth and swallowing hard to clear the blood and saliva from his mouth. It hurt, it hurt so bad, worse than it ever had whenever he'd bit it. Ramsay's fingers were pinching his eyelids back from his eyes, poking the needle into the thin skin but being careful not to piece through.

Ramsay watched the blood well up from the tiny stab wounds. His little needle was tipped with blood, streaks of the stuff down the length of the silver. Robb let out a ragged moan of pain. "I could poke those pretty blue eyes right out of your head," Ramsay whispered. He teased the tip of the needle at Robb's tearduct, just barely pressing down. Robb stiffened and Ramsay could see the fear in every tense muscle. He grinned, relishing it. He took his cuffed hands next, caressing his fingers and taking his left ring finger in hand. 

"This is it, isn't it? I see Theon isn't wearing the ring. Problems, or did you just have a sense to keep it safe?" Ramsay smirked. He ran his own fingers up the length of Robb's ring finger, holding the needle carefully, before sliding it to poke at the delicate skin just under the fingernail. Robb whimpered, biting at his lip. Ramsay poked harder, piercing the soft flesh and watching as blood welled up in a fat drop. He wiggled the needle deeper still, listening to Robb gasp in pain, before withdrawing it and doing the same to each of his other fingers. He didn't stop until Robb was near breathless with the pain and Ramsay couldn't see where to aim through the blood on his fingertips.

He backed away then, wiping the needle clean on his shirt and returning it to the silken pocket in the toybox. "What do you want to try next, little Wolf? I love the sound of your voice... If we're being honest, it kind of gets me going..." Ramsay threw him a playful smirk. Robb shuddered, looking away. Ramsay turned back to the box, pawing through its contents. "The others tell me you love the electrocution? We could do that, if you'd like. You sounded so pretty with the chain, though... I don't know, Wolf, what do you want to do? I have a lot of... emotion... to burn off and you're going to help me do it. So what do you want?" 

Robb didn't answer, and Ramsay sighed. He fished the cables and power box out of the toybox and walked over to Robb, clipping the ends to his nipples. Robb's eyes slipped shut, already preparing himself; Ramsay scowled and stomped on Robb's leg. It was healing, but still tender and raw. Robb let out a choked off cry, and Ramsay didn't allow him time to collect himself before he was switching the power box on high and watching Robb convulse as the current coursed through his body. He turned it off after a counted four seconds, letting Robb catch his breath. He bent and picked up the chain again. Robb's eyes followed it warily. 

Ramsay set the power to low; it would still hurt, but duller this time, and he could leave it on for much longer without risking cardiac arrest. Robb was already twitching, holding back his cries as best he could, when Ramsay whipped the chain to land a harsh blow on his side. Robb screamed, jerking violently but choking on his own voice with the chain around his throat. Ramsay struck him again and again and again, over and over until Robb was screaming hoarse and he couldn't catch his breath with the restricted airflow and the continued blows. Ramsay finally stopped it, slinging the chain to drape over his shoulder and turning off the power box. Robb's whole body was shaking, tears were sliding unbidden down his cheeks, mingling with the trickling blood from his abused eyelids. Blood was at his lips, and Ramsay wanted to taste it. He crashed his lips against Robb's, stealing what little breath he had gathered and sucking the blood from Robb's tongue. Robb yanked away as far as he could. 

"Get the fuck off me!" he spat. "I want Theon!"

Ramsay gave him a bored look. "The two of you are just one and the same, huh?" Robb could see hurt flickering in those pale eyes, though, and he seized upon it. 

"Jealous? He loves me, and not you! He's mine, and I'm his! You'll never have him again, not like you did! You're afraid to hurt him and you can't break him now, huh?" Robb jeered. "You just have me, but you can't kill me and still have any piece of Theon. You can't do a damned thing, you can't have him, and it's killing you, isn't it?" Robb spat at Ramsay's feet. Ramsay's jaw worked silently, staring down at him. He stomped again on his hurt leg, grinding the heel of his boot into where he knew the bullet wound to be, and Robb cried out again.

"You know nothing," Ramsay hissed, slinging the chain at him again. He caught him across the face this time, splitting his cheek and knocking him to the side. Robb's eyes rolled sideways, dazed. The chain came down again, on top of his head this time, and Robb knew no more. Ramsay eyed his limp figure, watching the blood stream from under his hair, and threw the chain to the floor. He stormed from the room, slamming the door as hard as he could behind him before stalking off down the hall. 

He lingered outside Theon's door. He could go in and see him. Maybe he was ready to apologize, but Ramsay thought better of it. The Wolf had his teeth sunk in deep now; Theon wasn't yielding quite yet. Besides, his blood was still roaring for more, raring to go another round with the chain or a knife or needle, or any sort of weapon he could get his hands on. If he were to go inside and see him, and be challenged again... Ramsay didn't want to think about what he could do. He could still feel a phantom chain around his throat, pulled tight by his own sweet pet with such cruel intent. The betrayal still cut him deep, and he didn't even want to see Theon right now. 

If only he had his girls. If only it was safe for them to hunt. He'd kill for a good hunt right now, anything to take the edge off. He wanted it so desperately, missed the old days so much it was a physical ache in his chest, but there was nothing he could do. He forced himself to move away from the door and went up the basement steps. If he couldn't do anything else, he would sleep. Of all small blessings, that was the wonder of his current life. That was what he could do peacefully, because in sleep, he could dream.


	19. Chapter 19

Sansa was sat on the couch in Jon’s living room, surrounded by squirmy puppies, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be happy. It had been nearly a week, five or six days since her brother and his fiancé- one of her closest friends- went missing. She couldn’t sleep at night, could barely bring herself to eat. Lieutenant Tarth had been keeping them all updated. It was Ramsay Bolton for sure, they’d found evidence of stolen boats and other cars that connected to the car they found the tracks of in the driveway, found fingerprints in said cars that matched his own and the boys’, along with two sets that weren’t recognizable. But they had no clue where Theon and Robb had been taken. 

“Jon, we should try to find them ourselves.” Sansa spoke up after a long silence. 

"You think so?" Jon looked apprehensive at the suggestion, but not altogether offput. "They could be anywhere in the country by now, or out of it." Border security had been tightened monumentally, but they had snuck out and back into the country within a month and a half. What was to say they couldn't do it again?

"You think so?" Jon looked apprehensive at the suggestion, but not altogether offput. "They could be anywhere in the country by now, or out of it." Border security had been tightened monumentally, but they had snuck out and back into the country within a month and a half. What was to say they couldn't do it again?

“Margaery’s family is good friends with Jaime Lannister’s,” Sansa began, “And our mother is very close friends with Lieutenant Tarth. I know they’re not telling us everything. If we could get in and look at the evidence ourselves... we know Theon and Robb better than anyone. We might have a better chance.”

Jon snorted, knowing all too well the relationship Olenna Tyrell had with Cersei Lannister, and it certainly wasn't the friendly 'tea on Tuesdays' sort. Still, Sansa had a point. Politically and financially, the two families had ties. They could be considered allies, in a sense. That connection might serve to help them. 

"Knowing Robb and Theon well won't help us with finding Ramsay, though," Jon said. He knew Ramsay and the type of person he was well, but not well enough to deduce where in Westeros he would he hiding. It could be anywhere from the most obvious place to a true hole-in-the-wall that they would never be able to find.

“We need to find them, Jon. We need to. I’m so worried about them, I- I’m so scared that they’ll be hurt, or killed.” 

"Me too." Jon chewed at his lip, a nervous habit he shared with both Robb and Arya. Sansa had always hated it, but she said nothing about it now. "We have to find them soon."

“Mom is so worried. I know you and her never got along, but... her oldest son, she’s lost her oldest son and her soon-to-be son in law.” Sansa scooped a puppy up in her arms, one that was wiggling around and trying to lick her. It licked at her arms as it was held. 

Jon watched Ghost as he darted around corraling puppies as they tried to scatter. The mother was outside, dozing in the yard and getting a much-deserved break. "If I thought she would react well, I would try and talk to her. But I don't think I'm going to make it any better. She loses her eldest son and gains me?" He gave a mirthless laugh. "Great trade. She'd be thrilled." Then he sighed. "No, I'll just stick to worrying about Robb by myself, and she can do the same."

“What about Theon? He- fuck, Jon, we need to contact his sister. Yara will be furious, if she hasn’t already figured it out or seen it on the news.” Sansa groaned. She’d seen much more of Theon’s sister over the past three years. Yara was okay, but she was kind of rough and blunt and made Sansa uncomfortable sometimes- not to mention her girlfriend, who despised Sansa. The feeling was mutual. The last thing she wanted to deal with was an annoyed Yara and any sort of Dany. 

"I know," Jon said reluctantly. "I don't want to talk to Yara. But she does need to know." Frankly, they should have told her right away. It wasn't fair of them to not do so. He didn't really know why they hadn't.

She groaned. “Should I just call her now? Rip off the bandage, get it done with?” 

"Might as well," Jon said. He sighed deeply. "She's going to be livid. Why didn't we call her sooner?"

“Fine, okay.” She put down the puppy onto the couch next to her with a sigh, fishing her phone out of her pocket and scrolling to find Yara’s number. It rang for a while before anyone picked up. 

"Yara's in the shower right now. Is it important?" Daenerys's voice filtered through, sounding just a little too nice to be genuine. Jon rolled his eyes. From the moment the girls met, they had disliked each other, and for no obvious reason.

“Extremely.” Sansa replied, voice cold. “It’s about Theon.” 

Daenerys was quiet on the other line for a moment. "I'll bring you right to her, then." Little as she liked Sansa, Daenerys was fond enough of the other Starks, especially Jon who she shared a close friendship with, and Theon, who she knew through Yara. She brought the phone to Yara in the bathroom, and they could hear the rushing shower water and some muffled discussion before Yara took the phone. 

"Is he okay?" she asked at once.

“He’s gone.” Sansa’s voice cracked and she swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. “Him and Robb, almost a week ago. I- I know we should’ve called you sooner. Bolton took them. We went to their apartment and they were gone, and Robb’s blood was everywhere, both their phones left behind...” 

"He's been gone for a week, and you didn't tell me?" Yara snarled. She shut off the water and slammed the curtain back. Jon flinched at the sound, now feeling extremely guilty. "The cops are working on it, right? Or did you keep it a secret from them, too?"

“We told them right away. They are working on it, I swear. I swear.” Sansa sighed, sounding fairly distraught. 

"Yet nobody told me," Yara snapped. She rustled around more and let out a deep sigh. "Whatever. Don't bother keeping me updated. I'll head down to the station myself." She hung up.

Sansa looked sadly over at Jon, putting her phone back down. “She’s mad.” 

"I heard," he said. "I'm not surprised." He scooped up the wandering puppy from the couch and held the squirming baby close to his chest. It nuzzled against his cheek, squeaking and yipping.

Sansa reached down, gently stroking Lady’s soft, fuzzy head. “I feel like Yara doesn’t like me just because Dany doesn’t. It’s her brother, why can’t she work with us?” 

"I mean..." Jon looked sheepish. "We don't have a good track record with her, do we? Last time, when it was just Theon, we forgot to keep her in the loop. Well, I say we, but it was mostly Robb wasn't it? But... I don't really blame her for wanting to do it herself."

“But we could help! I know Yara and Theon love each other, but, well.... Theon is closer to us than her.” 

"That's probably a sore spot for her too. How would you feel if Robb was closer to Yara than us? Jealous?"

“Well, yes, but... I’d still help! We’d do better if we all worked together, I know we would.” She looked at him sadly. “And mom is sending us to the Eyrie in two weeks, and I won't be able to work with you then. I'll be gone for four days. That's almost a whole week we lose of looking for him."

"You're all going?" Jon asked, shocked. Then he thought for a moment. "Oh, isn't Robin sick? And Catelyn’s.... Yeah, I understand. Alright. I'll keep looking here, and who knows. Maybe you'll find a hint while you're there."

“Maybe. I can only hope so.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I’m just- I’m glad Theon left me his ring. And the dogs. I’m glad they’re all safe.” 

"Me too." Jon shifted uncomfortably. "Do you think he would have killed the dogs, if they were there?"

Sansa nodded. “They had a gun. I-I think they would’ve shot them.” 

Jon shook his head slowly. It was a long moment before he spoke again. "Should we go look around? Maybe they've been to Bolton's house, or the Dreadfort."

“They’d be stupid to, but... I suppose they aren’t smart. Let’s check the Dreadfort.” She agreed. 

Jon set the puppy down and Ghost wandered over, nosing at the baby and herding him back to the rest. Jon smiled. "Good boy. Take care of your babies. Lady, are you staying or coming?" 

She wagged her tail and pressed close to Sansa's leg, clearly not wanting to be left behind.

“She has to stay. It’s not safe for her to come, and also, she has to watch Queenie.” Queenie was currently bumbling around with a couple of the puppies, happily yipping and playing with them. 

"Alright," Jon said. Poor Lady was left behind as they went outside. Jon paused in the kitchen to let Ygritte know where they were going, and then they were on their way to a fruitless search.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** warning for graphic rape.

Grey Wind was snarling. He was stalking towards the shadowed figures, lips curled back and hackles raised, positively fearsome. Still, Robb called out to him, fear bleeding rich through his veins. He screamed to him to get back, stay away from them! They're dangerous! But he had no voice, and his dog prowled onward.

One figure shifted and rippled, and moved into the light. Ramsay. The other shadows remained behind him, dancing about with sinister grins flashing in their murky depths. Ramsay held a knife, an ugly thing meant for skinning, with a curved guthook on the tip. Grey Wind snarled and pounced, and Ramsay swung the knife at him. The dog dodged, landing to the floor and racing around Ramsay in a wide circle, launching a new attack from the side. Ramsay spun and lashed out with the blade, and again Grey Wind dodged. The next attack caught Grey Wind on the shoulder with the guthook point, and blood sprayed over the floor. Grey Wind yelped, limping several feet away to stand near Robb. He leaned against his dog's furry side, feeling his chest heave with every breath. He tried to speak to him, to coax him down from fighting, but the words still would not come to him. He mouthed noiselessly, and Ramsay grinned at him.

"What's the matter, Stark? Bastard got your tongue?"

Robb half expected to look up and see that Ramsay did indeed have his tongue, cut from his throat. Of course he didn't, merely standing and twirling the bloodied knife in his fingers. Behind him, around him, the shadowy figures danced. Grey Wind made a thunderous growl, hunching his stance and pinning his ears back. Robb shook his head, wishing Grey Wind would look at him to read his lips as he pleaded no. The dog only seemed to shrug him off, moving forward again with a limp as blood matted the fur of his shoulder and leg. Ramsay lifted the blade, licking the blood off the end of it, and twirled it again.

Grey Wind leaped and bowled Ramsay over. He snapped at his exposed throat, teeth just barely grazing the flesh before Ramsay was swiping the knife at his side, splitting the flesh and sending blood streaming down his flank. He staggered back, whimpering, and Robb found his voice as Ramsay lunged for Grey Wind's face. Grey Wind flinched at Robb's shriek and rather than plunge into his eye, Ramsay's knife only caught the side of his face. Grey Wind spat a snarl and bit Ramsay's arm, sinking his teeth deep into the soft flesh of his forearm and shaking his head furiously, as though it was a chew toy. Ramsay yelled, stabbing what he could reach of Grey Wind's shoulder. Both their blood spattered the floor. Grey Wind released him, backing away and pacing around him. Ramsay panted, his forearm slick with his own blood.

"Grey Wind, to me!" Robb howled. Ignoring him, the dog leaped at Ramsay again, jaws wide for the kill, and Ramsay swung the blade up and sank it deep between Grey Wind's ribs. Robb screamed, sobbing as his dog fell heavily to the floor with a yelp and a whine, twitching as blood pooled out around him. "Grey!" Robb wailed, thrashing against his chains. "No! You fucking bastard! Grey! Grey!"

"You wolves never learn, do you?" Ramsay clucked his tongue, nudging Grey Wind with the toe of his boot. The dog bared his teeth in a final, valiant snarl before Ramsay plunged his knife down and slit his throat. Robb was helpless to do anything but watch and cry as Grey Wind died there on the floor, barely four feet away. He watched the light fade slowly from those fierce yellow eyes, and felt a piece of himself wither away. Ramsay pulled the knife from Grey Wind's body again, returning it to saw through his neck. Robb screamed at him, mangled pleas and curses on his lips as Ramsay cut through muscles and tendons, severing his dog's head. He grabbed Grey Wind by the ruff of fur around his neck, the thick fur that Robb had always loved to comb his fingers through, and pulled. It came free with a sickening spray of blood and Ramsay kicked the body.

Robb could only watch, helpless in tears. His voice was gone again, dead with Grey Wind, and he felt gutted. Empty.

Ramsay was coming near him, carrying the head in one hand and the killing knife in the other. A sudden thrill of fear raced through him as Robb remembered that old threat. Theon had told him what Ramsay said he wanted to do, and now he was coming towards him with exactly what he would need to accomplish that. Robb thrashed again.

The shadowy figures encroached around him and suddenly there were hands all over his body, grabbing and groping and holding him still as Ramsay drew near. Thick tears choked his vision, but he could still see the blood streaming from the severed head, and the broad smirk on Ramsay's face as he hefted it. Something glinted on Ramsay's left hand as he lifted the head. A wedding band. He looked up into his face, seeing the vile triumph there, and knew that Theon too was lost to him. He couldn't protect him, not from here, and he couldn't protect Grey Wind either. He was better off dead without them.

One of the figures holding him grabbed him by the chin and turned his face up, forcing him to look. "Look," it murmured, its voice a garbled mockery of a human's. "Look, look, look." Its words were picked up by the others and they floated around him, ethereal and haunting. He looked.

The wolfdog's yellow eyes were empty, staring down at him. Blood was matted in the fur around his lips, and the tongue lolled lifelessly from slack jaws. Robb stared up at the head, into those dead eyes, and Ramsay's own were pale and flinty behind it all. The blood dripped down his arms, coating his hands and that sleek wedding band.

"I will take it all from you," Ramsay vowed, "just as you did from me."

Robb awoke to pitch dark, and he could almost feel the ghostly hands on his body still.

* * *

  
Ramsay was crouched before him in the dark, grinning. For several minutes now, as Ramsay watched, Stark twitched and cried out in his sleep. More than once he had thrashed in his chains and choked himself on the one still around his neck. Ramsay saw no point in waking him; this was far greater amusement than anything else he had available right now, especially with Stark whimpering his mutt's name like that.

Stark awoke very suddenly, and for a moment he didn't see him. Then his eyes appeared to adjust, and they widened. Was that fear Ramsay saw in them? His grin broadened. "Hello there, Wolf. I have a treat for you today." Stark eyed him warily, and said nothing. Ramsay stood and headed back towards the door. He flicked the lights on now that Stark was awake anyways, and opened the door. His boys were waiting faithfully outside, and his pet was stood near Luton, his chain held taut like a leash. His eyes were bright and anxious.

"Come on in," he said to them all.

“Robb!” Theon ran and yanked at the chain, yelping when Luton sharply tugged at it, pulling him back. He didn’t try running again, just staring at Robb, his poor, sweet Robb, covered in cuts and bruises, with dried blood trailing all the way from his mouth down his chin. It made him want to cry just seeing it- Robb was hurt, he’d been hurt.

“Pull again and I’ll shove the chain up your ass and drag you from that instead.” Luton threatened, earning a dirty look from Ramsay.

Damon stepped in after them, moving to lean against the wall, glaring at Theon. Theon could feel his gaze, the anger in it, the hatred... he swallowed hard, practically trembling where he stood. Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn came in next, both leering down at Robb in a way that made Theon want to tear them to shreds.

Robb must’ve been so cold... Theon was wearing one of Ramsay’s hoodies, which was much too big on him, and a pair of his boxers which fit only a little bit better. The sleeves of the hoodie covered his hands as much as they could when he had cuffs around his wrists.

“Robb...” He said again, soft, before looking at Ramsay. The hatred in his eyes was still there, but it was overwhelmed by something else. Dependence. Fear. Need. Theon was looking to him in the way a confused dog would look to its master.

"Let go of the chain," Ramsay ordered, and Luton did so. It fell to the floor with a clatter, leaving Theon free to run to Robb's side. Ramsay stepped on the end of it, just to make sure, but let Theon have several moments with Robb. They all were watching, some with boredom, and some, like Ramsay, with distaste.

“Baby.” Theon whispered. “Love. Poor thing, my poor Robb. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He nuzzled his face against Robb’s shoulder, his heart feeling as it it might shatter when he realized he couldn’t hug him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

"It's not your fault," Robb said, voice thick. It hurt to speak with his tormented tongue, but he did anyways for Theon's sake. "I love you, Thee. Don't forget that, please."

“I don’t know why he brought me here, or- or the boys.” Theon was able to get a glimpse of his tongue, pulling back slightly and watching his labored speech. He could see the uneven holes stabbed into it. “Robb. Robb, what did he do? I love you, I’m so sorry, I’m- I’m sorry.”

"He—"

"That's enough," Ramsay said curtly, tugging the chain to bring Theon back to his side. "I believe I promised the Wolf a treat? Throw him a bone, maybe? Or... Something like that." Ramsay smirked. Luton and Sour Alyn both snickered, while Yellow Dick didn't seem to get his joke. Robb too was staring up at them in utter confusion, and a little fear. "Who's first?"

“Huh?” Theon looked back at Ramsay, confused. “What are- what’re you gonna do to him? Rams? Ramsay?” He stared at him, eyes wide with worry.

Sour Alyn was the first to walk up, nudging Robb with the toe of his boot. “Hey, wolf. You gonna bark at me?” He snickered, nudging him again, harder, almost a kick. “Gonna howl? You might, I think.”

"What are you doing?" Robb asked, scooting away as far as he could. It wasn't very far. "Don't touch me!"

"Dun toch me!" mocked Sour Alyn, laughing at how Robb was speaking. Robb flushed in anger.

“Leave him be!” Theon exclaimed, pulling at his chain as Sour Alyn walked closer, grabbing a fistful of Robb’s hair.

He snorted, looking down at him. “I’d make you suck my cock, but you can barely talk with that pierced tongue, so I’m not thinking you’d be very good. Guess I’ll have to find some other way to entertain myself.” He yanked at his hair, forcing Robb to look at him. “Ever take it up the ass, wolf?”

Robb didn't answer. He narrowed his eyes in a glare, jerking his head away. The movement caused the chains around his throat to pull painfully, but at least he was free of Sour Alyn's grip, even if just momentarily.

"Course he has, just look at him!" Yellow Dick jeered.

“Leave him alone!” Theon practically screamed, watching in horror as Sour Alyn manhandled Robb, shoving him onto his belly on the floor.

“Ass up, wolf bitch.” He snapped, kicking him in the side.

Theon turned to Ramsay now, tugging at his arm. “Don’t. Rams, please, don’t let them, make them stop.”

Ramsay leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Don't worry, pup. He'll enjoy it. So will you, of course. You won't be left out." His hands were on Theon's hips and slowly slid down. Robb kicked at Sour Alyn with his good leg, favoring his bad.

Theon whimpered, squirmed, not wanting Ramsay’s hands on him. “Rams, please...”

“I said, ass up.” Sour Alyn snarled, kicking Robb harder this time.

Robb flattened himself to the floor in defiance. The chain had fallen from the pole when Sour Alyn was wrestling him down, and was now wrapped loosely around his neck like a macabre necklace. Its end trailed over the floor, and Sour Alyn seized the end of it and yanked so Robb's head was forced back. He choked. Sour Alyn only relented his grip when Robb righted himself and pulled his legs underneath him, forcing his ass up. He drew in deep breaths, holding them and letting them out slow; his thigh was screaming in agony, and the fury and pain was making his head swim.

“Make them stop!” Theon demanded, looking to Ramsay with pleading eyes. “Please, please, don’t you love me? You wouldn’t do this if you loved me!”

Sour Alyn snorted, giving Robb’s ass a harsh smack, surveying his beaten body with greedy eyes.

"You betrayed me, pup. Consider this your equal payment, okay? Then we're even." He brushed his lips over Theon's throat, sweet and gentle. "Besides, doesn't he look like he's enjoying it?"

“I- you- you already punished- you already hurt him! You already hurt him, Rams!” Theon didn’t move away from the contact, not wanting to make him angry- instead, he leaned into it. “Please, Rams, please. Use- you can use me instead.”

Sour Alyn heard them and burst out laughing, shaking his head. “We’ve all used you already, bitch. I don’t want a second ride on the same horse.” He glanced over at Damon, winking, looking him up and down. “But Wolf here is unused and easily accessible.”

Damon glanced over at Skinner with a disgusted expression.

"If you want it, I can give it to you too, pup," Ramsay purred. He nipped playfully at Theon's throat. "Wouldn't want you getting jealous, right?" He slid his hand down to grope at the front of Theon's underwear as Sour Alyn yanked Robb's boxers down.

Theon whimpered, squirmed. “N-no, only if you- if you leave Robb- Rams, no...” His breath hitched as a hand reached into his underwear and fingers wrapped around his cock. “Don’t touch Robb, don’t touch him!”

“Oh, that’s a nice ass you got, Wolf.” Sour Alyn cackled. Yellow Dick walked over to stand next to him and wolf whistled at the view.

“Ya ain’t wrong there, Sour Alyn.” He sneered.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Robb snapped, but his arms were tangled beneath his sprawled body, the chain wrapped tight, and he was helpless. Sour Alyn smacked Robb's ass, jolting him the force of the blow. He yelped, glaring fiercely back over his shoulder.

Theon jerked away from Ramsay’s touch, wrenched away from him. He jerked at the chain, pulled, trying to get to Robb. “Don’t touch him!” He screeched. “Don’t touch him!”

Ramsay held him tighter, and with Theon's every struggle, the throat around Robb's throat was tugged tighter as well. His breaths came in thin wheezes, almost hyperventilating in his panic. Just as black started to spot his vision, Sour Alyn relented his hold and Robb sank boneless to the floor, tears in his eyes.

Theon stopped, realizing what was happening and stopping to stand still. He was trembling, horrified as he turned and looked at Ramsay. “You- he hasn’t done anything- you can’t hurt him for the things I do!”

***

"That's how you have to learn, pup," Ramsay murmured. He sat down, pulling Theon down with him and sitting him in his lap. Sour Alyn was undoing his jeans, pulling his cock out.

“I’ll learn! I’ll learn, I promise!” Theon squirmed in his lap, dismay clear on his face when he felt Ramsay rock hard beneath him. “R-Rams- Ramsay, please don’t let them do this, please make them stop.”

Ramsay shook his head. "Sorry, pup," he said, not sounding very sorry at all. Sour Alyn was shoving spit-wet fingers inside Robb while he gasped in pain, and Ramsay's hand was slipping inside Theon's underwear again.

“Stop it!” Theon practically screamed. “Leave him be! You’re hurt- ah- you’re hu-hurting him!” Ramsay’s attentions were causing his body to betray him, despite the disgust and guilt he felt.

"You don't seem so sure... Don't you like this? You get to see him get off, while you do too. Isn't that sweet?" His voice was dry and sarcastic, working at Theon's flaccid cock.

“Stop...” Theon trailed off into a moan, cheeks flushing dark pink as his cock began to harden under Ramsay’s attentions, as his other hand began working to pull off the boxers Theon was wearing. “R-Rams- stop- make Sour Alyn stop.”

Sour Alyn sneered, shaking his head, still painfully working at loosening Robb up.

Robb looked over at the sound of Theon's moan, and his eyes lingered dark and furious on Ramsay's hand in his underwear. "Don't touch him!" he growled. Sour Alyn plunged his fingers deeper in as punishment, forcing in a third and fourth.

“Stop- stop-“ Theon moaned, trembling in Ramsay’s lap as he stroked him. “Don’t- make them stop, Rams, I’ll- I’ll be good, I’ll be good, don’t hurt Robb, please!”

"They won't hurt him," Ramsay promised. "They'll make him feel good, I promise. And I'll do the same for you, so you don't get jealous."

Sour Alyn, deciding that he was done, yanked his fingers from Robb and grabbed his cock, lining it up with Robb's hole. Robb thrashed, shouting in anger and fear.

“No!” Theon screamed, watching in horror as Sour Alyn thrusted hard into Robb. “No! Leave him be! Make him stop!” Theon went to get off Ramsay’s lap, only to be pulled back by an arm wrapped around his middle.

"Still jealous, hm? You want him instead?" Ramsay was the one who looked jealous, however, glancing between Theon and Robb. "I can make you feel better than he ever did, pup." He stroked Theon's cock, teasing it.

“Get off him!” Theon thrashed in his lap, trying desperately to get away from Ramsay, to get to Robb as Sour Alyn picked up a nasty pace. “Leave him be! Get off him! Stop hurting him!”

"They're not hurting him," Ramsay said, listening to Robb's desperate little cries and whimpers. He was wiggling Theon's underwear down, moving his hand to probe a finger at his hole. Theon was still stretched and slick with lubricant from their morning together, and his finger slid in easily.

Theon yelped in surprise, squirming, only causing the finger to push in deeper. “No- Rams, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I- I promise! I’ll be- I- I can be your good pup- please- don’t hurt Robb, he’s hurting, he- he is, they’re hurting him, please! I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good!” He was starting to break down into sobs, fat tears dripping from his lashes. His belly was twisting and turning, dark curls of arousal mixing with bubbling, boiling guilt and fear, and it made him feel as if he might become sick.

"D-don't touch him!" Robb gasped out, face twisted in pain. Sour Alyn was gripping his hips hard enough to leave dark bruises. Every thrust sent a new jolt of pain up his spine with disgust and humiliation storming in his gut, but Theon was crying. Ramsay, on the other hand, paid no heed to Theon's tears and merely pushed a second finger within him, stretching quickly before adding a third.

Theon let out a loud sob, shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to avoid looking- but then he opened them, looked anyway, staring at Robb with horror in his eyes, with guilt. If Robb couldn’t escape what was happening, why should he be able to? Robb couldn’t close his eyes and ignore it, so Theon wouldn’t either.

“Ramsay, don’t- don’t you love me? You wouldn’t do this if you loved me.” He pleaded, voice warped by his crying.

"I do love you," he whispered, pulling his fingers free with a wet sound. "That's why I have to show you that he's not worthy of you. See him? Spread open like that, fucked on another man's cock. That's his punishment for stealing you from me. And, pup, don't forget what you did to me. We're getting even now, then it can go back to normal."

“No! This isn’t normal, this isn’t- it’s not normal, it’s not! It’s not! I’ll be good! I promise, I-I’ll be good, just- just leave Robb alone! Please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry I was bad, I won’t- I won’t be bad again, I won’t!” Theon was nearly hyperventilating, gasping for breath between sobs, barely even able to see Robb through his tears. He wanted to reassure him, hold him, help him, to tell him he loved him and he was sorry- but that would only anger Ramsay further.

"I know you won't be bad anymore. You'll be a good boy for me, won't you? Theon?" He purred his name softly, relishing it, letting his breath roll hot over the shell of Theon's ear. He was busy working at his pants, pulling his cock free to tease it against Theon's entrance.

Theon’s whole body went rigid at the feeling, at the realization that Ramsay planned to fuck him- or, at least, have him on his cock- as he watched Robb get raped. He felt so sick, wanted to curl up and fall asleep and wake back up in bed. His bed back home, with Robb safe and warm next to him. “Please. Please don’t. Please, please, please-“ His words began to all blend into a stream of unintelligible sobbing.

Ramsay was already slipping into him though, slick and easy. He groaned softly as Theon's heat enveloped him, rolling his hips slowly up into him and drawing out those pretty little sounds that he loved from him. Robb Stark was letting out such nice sounds too, tears in his eyes.

Theon couldn’t help the little moans escaping him between sobs, Ramsay inside him and his hand wrapped around him, forcing his body to feel good as he watched his fiancé be brutally assaulted. “I-I hate you, Ramsay, I hate you,” He blabbered, barely able to form a coherent sentence. “I d-don’t love you- I won’t- no- st-stop it- stop it!”

"I love you," Ramsay growled. "And you love me too." He bucked his hips, shoving deeper into Theon and slamming into his prostate. A loud moan was torn from his lips, and Robb let out a furious sob.

Theon went limp in Ramsay’s arms, letting his eyes fall shut as he sobbed. His begging did nothing. Ramsay wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t respect his boundaries- he never had. He never cared what Theon did or didn’t want. And now Robb was suffering, and it was his own fault, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,” He repeated it over and over and over, though whether it was directed toward Ramsay or Robb was unclear.

Sour Alyn was finishing, spilling deep within Robb. Robb shuddered, sinking down to the floor as soon as he pulled out, and burying his face in the crook of his arm. All his weight shifted at once to his right side, relieving his injured left leg. He was only granted a moment of reprieve, however, before Yellow Dick was moving in and yanking him up by the hips.

Damon exchanged a look with Skinner and they moved quietly from their spot against the wall to leave the room, unnoticed by the others.

Theon suffered through Ramsay’s attentions, the constant hammering against his prostate, the slick stroking of his cock bringing him closer and closer until he was squirming on his lap and fighting off his orgasm, sobbing more apologies, feeling more disgusting than he’d ever felt before.

"Make sure you're watching," Ramsay murmured, turning Theon's head towards Robb. Yellow Dick had finished fast and brutal, pulling free with a drip of semen. Robb tried again to let his weight fall but Luton was stepping in now, forcing him back upright and shoving his face against the floor.

“No, don’t- don’t make me, you can’t make me, you can’t,” Theon closed his eyes tight. He couldn’t watch anymore, he couldn’t, especially not when he was so close to coming- he couldn’t handle the shame and guilt if he came while seeing what they were doing to Robb, even if the orgasm was forced from him.

"You have a sweet ass, Stark," Luton was saying, smacking it hard. He raked his nails down Robb's lower back hard enough to draw thin lines of blood, and shoved himself in deep. Robb let out a wretched sound, fighting weakly, but there was little he could do in his position, with his cuffed hands wrenched beneath him.

“Robb,” Theon cried. “Robb, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I- I’m sorry they’re hurting you, I’m sorry,” He couldn’t keep quiet anymore, not when he could hear those horrible sounds of pain coming from his love. “I love you, I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

"Make sure you're looking at him, Stark!" Ramsay called. Robb blinked his eyes open, slowly turning his head to see. Ramsay ground into Theon slow and deep, dragging over his prostate, and stroked his cock to climax.

“I can’t, I can’t-“ Theon wailed, his body tensing and then shuddering as he came, back arching, cock twitching in Ramsay’s hand and ass clenching around his cock. He felt sick, so sick, disgusting...

But Robb couldn't look away, loathing in his stare, heavy on Ramsay's hands and movements. His body jerked as Luton moved, and pain blossomed brighter as he dug his sharp fingernails into the soft skin at his lower hips. Still he couldn't look away, watching Theon through his own hazy tears as Theon cried and begged words that Robb could scarcely hear through the roaring in his brain. Ramsay was smirking, and he wanted to slice the skin from his ugly face and make him feel every ounce of pain that he had and was still inflicting on Theon.

Theon curled in on himself as best he could in Ramsay’s lap, pulling his legs up to hug them against his chest, hiding his face against his knees as he cried. He was horrible, filthy and unfaithful, completely disgusting. Robb was being brutally hurt because of him, and he orgasmed during it. While Robb was suffering. He hated himself, wanted to claw off his own skin, to dig into himself and tear apart piece by piece. He wanted to be back hanging from the ceiling, being whipped and beaten, because at least then Robb was safe. At least then no one else was truly being hurt because of him.

"Thee," Robb whimpered, trying to focus his gaze on him. Pain was throbbing through his whole body, and he could feel his wounded leg bleeding again. He was being forced to kneel on it, stress put on the muscles with every brutal thrust, and the shoddy stitching and scabbing had failed him. He let out a harsh pant and a pitiful sound. Luton smacked him hard.

"Shut up, Wolf. Bitches don't talk," Luton snapped. He thrust hard into him, throwing Robb's body forward. His leg slipped out from underneath him, blood streaking from underneath the bandages. Luton growled in annoyance, heaving him up again.

Theon just cried, held himself and cried, unable to do anything else. Ramsay was still hard inside him, but he gently lifted Theon off his lap, placing him on the floor but keeping a tight grip on his chain.

Luton was slowing down, stuttering his hips, and Robb was barely breathing. If he didn't breathe, his body could shut down and he could pass out and not have to try and cope with what was happening to him. He let his eyes slip shut and his body go limp, held up only by Luton's tight hands on his hips, until he felt him release inside him. Nausea rolled over him in a wave, but he held back his cry.

“Robb...” Theon whimpered, trying to get to him. “Robb, please... I’m sorry... I’m sorry...” He pulled at his chain to no avail.

Ramsay held him snugly, nestling his chin against Theon's shoulder. He made a soft and happy sound, watching as Luton pulled free from Robb and shoved him to the floor.

"Looks like it's my turn, pup," he murmured. "I'm going to hand you to Luton now, okay? Seems Skinner got bored, so you're stuck with him." Luton was zipping up his jeans and coming towards them with an awful sneer on his face.

“No, Ramsay, please- please-“ Theon begged, but Luton was quickly taking hold of his chain, looping it tightly around his arms, securing them even tighter together so he couldn’t move his arms apart at all, tight enough to bruise all over them. He looked up at Luton, at the hand holding his chain. After a moment of consideration, he lunged forward and sunk his teeth into his hand.

Luton backhanded him, smacking his head backwards against the wall. He grabbed the end of the chain and forced it in Theon's mouth, wrapping it around his head to incapacitate him. Ramsay gave him a disapproving look but otherwise did nothing, instead moving in to grab Robb's rear and pull him up again. Robb let out a weak dry sob, shaking his head, but Ramsay was already thrusting into him.

Theon screamed, thrashed, not wanting to look but unable to look away. His Robb, his poor Robb. No one deserved this, but Robb especially... his baby, his darling, loving, perfect Robb. Kind and caring and beautiful.

"Come on, Young Wolf. Howl for me, it's no fun if you don't howl." Ramsay raked his nails down Robb's back, trailing the marks where Luton had done the same, and grabbed his thighs to spread them further as he shoved Robb to the ground. One hand went to fist in Robb's hair, holding his face down against the cold floor, and the other squeezed the reopened wound, digging his fingers into it. Robb screamed, but his voice was weak and hoarse from it already.

Theon kept trying to shout, plead, beg, but it was all muffled by the chain. He thrashed against his restraints, against Luton, but his efforts continued to be useless.

"Stay still," Luton snarled, yanking the chain.

"Look," Ramsay murmured, bending low over Robb as he drove deep into him. Robb was shivering under his touch; exercising this amount of control and domination over Stark was just as sweet and satisfying as Ramsay had always thought it would be. "He's looking at you. Crying for you. But he won't be for long. He's mine again, Stark," he whispered. "Once you're dead, I'll move on to that mutt of yours, and the rest of your filthy pack before I take him and go home again. He's mine!"

Robb was shaking his head still. He could hear the words, and they registered in his brain as reminiscent of the dream he had had that morning, but he didn't respond. He couldn't respond. He couldn't even scream anymore, only weakly cry out as Ramsay raped him.

Theon was thankful that Ramsay finished quickly- though he was horribly brutal in the small time he took- but he felt horribly sick when he realized he was coming inside Robb, pulling out and leaving him laying on the floor with filthy come dripping out of him. Theon reached hopelessly for him, wanting to hold him, to keep him close and safe and comfort him. To take back all the horrible things that just happened to him. But he couldn’t, couldn’t even speak to comfort him.

***

He screamed around the chain, thrashed, fought against it. He glared at Ramsay with red, puffy, teary eyes.

Ramsay freed him from Luton's excessive chaining, helping Theon to his feet. "Did you enjoy the show, pup?" he asked, smiling to him while he zipped up his pants. Behind him, Robb had collapsed to the floor, looking as though he was finally letting himself relax. Blood and semen leaked down his inner thighs. The other boys, however, were all leering; Sour Alyn was walking towards him again.

“No...” Theon moaned pitifully, wobbling where he stood, turning to look at Robb even as he was led toward the door.

Robb sobbed helplessly as he was lifted up again, swaying on his knees as Sour Alyn shoved into him again. Ramsay ushered Theon away, bringing him back to his own little room.

"I love you," he said. "You were so good for me today, pup." He cupped Theon's cheek, real affection in his eyes, and bent to kiss him.

Theon didn’t kiss back, just stayed limp and sad, lips unmoving as he was kissed. He looked into Ramsay’s eyes as he pulled away, seeing love in them, and wondered... how? How could he hurt him so much, and then look at him with so much love? “I- I don’t love you. Not if- not if you keep hurting people.”

"It's just the Wolf," Ramsay said dismissively. "You don't need him anymore, pup. Theon. You have me back. I want to go back to how it was, before. Okay, Theon?"

Theon stared at him, trying to think... “Let him go then. Pl- please. Please, Rams. I’ll be good. I-I’ll love you, I will, I’ll be good. I will. I promise, just let Robb go.”

"I can't let him go. I won't. Not yet. He'll take you away again, and they'll kill me this time." Theon kept promising him that he would love him if he did these things, but Ramsay didn't know if he could trust him. He didn't think he could, not yet.

“Then- then treat him good. Feed him, and don’t hurt him. Don’t let the boys hurt him, Rams, please.” He took a shaky step forward, sad eyes wide and bitten lips pouty. “I’ll be good. I’ll be the best pup ever. The- the very best pup, I swear.”

"I love you," Ramsay repeated, but he didn't address anything else that Theon had said. He kissed him again and left quietly, clicking the door shut behind him. Theon was alone, but he could still head the distant sounds of the Boys' laughter down the hall.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a fairly soft chapter. Warning for ... gentle kitten cuddling

"Quit your crying," Skinner snapped, banging open Theon's door. The kid hadn't shut up in the two days since the show. Skinner and Damon hadn't stuck around for most of it, but it had gone on all night. Now Theon was crying nonstop, and if Skinner had a headache from listening, he was sure that Theon must have an even worse one. He didn't feel like listening to him whine about that, either. He stepped into the room and tossed a bottle of ibuprofen onto the cot beside him. "Take those, and stop crying."

Theon sat up, glaring at him with teary eyes. It occurred to him briefly that Skinner hadn’t taken part in Robb’s abuse... and Damon hadn’t, either. His glare softened. “Why are you giving me these?”

"For the headache. I have a water bottle, too." He dug into his hoodie pocket and handed it to him. "Apparently when you cry a lot, you get a headache. Don't you? So." He shrugged. "Rams wants you taken care of. And I'm sick of listening to you."

“Where’s Damon?” Theon meant to sound mocking, but it came out as a legitimate question.

"Upstairs, with the cat. Why, you want him?" Skinner arched an eyebrow.

“... cat?” Theon’s expression softened even more. “Can- can I see the cat?”

Skinner gave him a long look, then turned on his heel and walked silently out of the room. He went upstairs, to the living area where Damon was curled on the floor with Stepphie. Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn were both on the couch, and Luton was leaned against the wall, polishing a knife.

"Damon. He wants to see her," Skinner said, pointing at the kitten.

Damon glared at Skinner, protectively hugging the kitten to his chest. “Ramsay’s bitch wants to see Stepphie?” He repeated slowly, as if not sure he’d heard him right.

"Yes. He seems very distraught," he said, not particularly caring one way or the other.

“He’ll hurt her.” Damon looked mortified.

"He won't. He never hurt the girls," Skinner pointed out. "If it makes him stop wailing, I'm fine with it."

There were a few moments of silence before Damon stood hesitantly. “...okay. Fine. But I’m going with you.”

"I was expecting you to." Skinner grinned. Damon scarcely went anywhere without the cat; he was more protective over her than he had been over anything before.

Damon followed him down the stairs, still clutching her tightly to his chest. She rubbed her tiny head against him and purred, and he couldn’t help but smile at her- a soft, loving smile that fell from his face when he entered Theon’s room. “If you hurt her, you die.” He warned, before reluctantly placing his tiny kitten on the cot.

Theon looked at the little thing, gasping softly as she walked up onto his lap, big blue eyes staring up at him. “Oh. Hi, kitty.” He murmured, reaching out to carefully pat her tiny head. “Hi little thing.”

Damon hovered over him, looking every bit a protective mother watching her child on their first play date.

Skinner sat on the closed lid of the little toilet to watch. He didn't really care much for Theon, but he at least trusted him to not hurt an innocent animal. He knew that much at least from watching him interact with the dogs three years ago. Stepphie seemed to love him too, curling herself around him, butting her head against his petting hand and letting out a rumbling purr.

“Her name is Stephanie.” Damon said, arms crossed, trying to look angry and failing. His little kitten was just so cute, so small and fuzzy and loving.

“Stephanie.” Theon repeated, sniffling softly, his tears slowing to a stop as he focused on the little tortoiseshell kitten. She purred as he scratched carefully behind her little pointed ears.

"She likes you," Skinner remarked. The kitten liked just about everybody, really, but she seemed to have really taken to Theon. She licked his fingers with a tiny pink tongue and kneaded her paws into his leg.

“She likes everyone.” Damon huffed, but he didn’t really sound or look angry. His kitten was happy, and he couldn’t be mad when she was so cute.

“I like her.” Theon gently lifted her up into a soft hug. “I- I really like her.”

Skinner watched Damon tense when Theon picked her up, but he didn't do anything and neither did Skinner. At least he wasn't crying anymore. Stark hadn't been crying either, when Skinner went to restitch his wound last night. Some time after he had left, it had reopened and they left it a mess. 'Leave it for Skinner' was their evident motto. He didn't tell Theon anything about Stark, though. That would just make him cry again.

“... be gentle with her.” Damon hesitantly sat down beside Theon on the cot, eyes glued to Stephanie as she butted her face against his cheek and purred, stretching out her little paws to grab at his face. Theon actually giggled, cheeks flushing a little bit, but he still looked horribly sad.

"She's fine, Damon," Skinner said, though he too didn't look away from her. "Right, kid? If anything happens to her, I do have my knives back."

“I would never hurt her.” Theon looked up at Skinner, shocked that he would even consider he’d hurt the little kitten. “She’s perfect.”

“She is.” Damon agreed.

Stephanie mewed at the top of her lungs, batting her paw at Theon's cheek to draw his attention back to her. Skinner couldn't help but smile. Something told him he shouldn't tell Ramsay that kitten therapy worked to calm Theon, otherwise they would never see Stepphie again with all the time she would be spending down here. Gods knew Damon wouldn't stand for that. As it was, they stayed for longer than Skinner had thought they would, watching closely as Theon played with Stepphie. They only left when her tiny belly rumbled, and Damon just about lost his mind to get her to food. Skinner thought that Theon looked a little better when they were leaving, but he knew it wouldn't last. As soon as the door would close behind them, that smile would drop from his face. Once the door closed, however, it would no longer be his problem.

* * *

Yara opened the door to her house, carrying Dany by piggyback, but the smile dropped from her face when she saw Sansa on her doorstep.

“What do you want, Stark?”

"I—" Sansa hesitated. Her bravado was faltering now that she was face to face with her, with Daenerys, and her guilt was resurging. "I want to help find Theon. I'm going to Eyrie next week and I'm going to be looking for him. Jon and Ygritte are going up north, around Hardhome, to look."

“Okay. Good.” Yara gently let Daenerys off her back, draping a muscled arm over her shoulders as she stepped up beside her. “And why do you need to be here and telling me about it?”

"Well... You're right in between us, aren't you? Unless you're going away too?" Sansa gave her a hopeful look. "I was hoping that if we found anything, we could call you. And you could help, if you wanted."

“... I suppose.” Yara narrowed her eyes. “But only for Theon’s sake. Because he’d benefit from us working together.” She pulled Dany closer to her.

"Of course," Sansa replied. "Jon and I checked the Dreadfort and around the Bolton house, a couple days ago. We didn't find anything. We're going to keep looking around here, though. And my mother is working with Lieutenant Tarth." Sansa's face grew solemn, troubled. "The blood was definitely Robb's, but the police agree that it's unlikely that they're dead. It doesn't match up with Ramsay's previous behavior to kill them so soon, and they think that Robb was only a bystander casualty. He was there for Theon." They had all figured that already, though. "They were driving a silver SUV. They found the car abandoned, with traces of Robb's blood in it and some finger prints. I don't know what car they have now, though."

“Fuck. Where was it abandoned, do you know?” She reached with her other arm, taking hold of Dany’s hand.

Sansa shook her head helplessly. "A few streets from their apartment. They must have stolen another, but that's all I know."

“Great. That’s super helpful, thanks.” Yara snapped, but the anger came more from fear for her brother than anything else.

"That's all I know," Sansa snapped back. "I can let you know when I find it more, but that's all I've been told right now."

Yara carefully pulled Dany in front of her, arms wrapping around her middle, resting her chin atop her head. Her expression softened. “I wish you’d told me sooner.”

"I'm sorry," Sansa murmured, ashamed. Daenerys fixed her in a cool violet-eyed stare. Sansa didn't know what it was about her, but she had always seemed a touch hostile. Maybe their personalities just clashed. Right now, at least, the hostility seemed justified.

“I know.” She replied with a soft sigh. “My poor brother, he’s been through so much... he doesn’t deserve it.” After a pause, she added, “Neither does yours. They’re good men, our brothers. Went from planning their wedding to this...”

Suddenly, Sansa was blinking back tears. "I want them to come home safe, and get married, and— and be happy. They don't deserve this shit."

“I know. I know, Sansa, I agree.” Yara looked away, not wanting to see her tears. “They were planning their wedding, I remember Theon sending me texts about it, and now... I just can’t believe it. I’ll kill Bolton with my own hands if I see him.”

"I'd love to see that," she giggled. She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve and pulled herself back together. "He'll be okay. They both will be. Theon's strong, and he was okay after a while last time. Robb will be too. He's strong too." That was, of course, assuming that Ramsay hadn't already killed them both. But he hadn't. She knew he hadn't.

“He’s dead. Bolton, I mean. Whatever he does, someone will find him, and if they or I don’t kill him, the law will. If he doesn’t get the death penalty, I’ll deliver it. No matter what.” She promised.

"He's dead," Sansa repeated. She nodded firmly. "Yeah. No matter what. If he doesn't die, he'll just keep doing this shit. Over and over until he gets whatever it is he wants."

After a few more minutes of intense silence, Yara visibly relaxed. “Did you want to come in?”

"Oh— Sure," Sansa said. She stepped inside after them and toed off her sneakers. The three Komodo dragons were grouped on the kitchen floor, eating some sort of meat off of plates. "They're so big!" she said, staring in awe.

“Yes... they’re almost four now.” Dany couldn’t help but smile at her dragons. “They are my children.”

“Our children.” Yara joked, smiling fondly at her girlfriend.

"Drogon, right?" she asked, kneeling beside them. The blackish one glanced at her and resumed his meal. "And Viserion?" The tannish one lashed its tail. "And this one is Rhaegal?" The greenish one ignored her entirely. "Theon talks about them, sometimes. He thinks they're cool."

“They are.” Dany agreed, kneeling down next to her after a moment of consideration. “They like Theon. I’m glad he likes them.”

Yara felt her heart soften a bit at the sight, her girlfriend next to her soon-to-be sister in law, both with soft smiles on their faces.

"I miss them," she said after a moment. "It's already been a week... What do you think he's doing to them?"

“Hurting them. Torturing them. Raping them.” The smile dropped from Yara’s face instantly. “Nothing good.”

"I've never wanted anybody to die so bad before... Besides Payne," she amended. Payne, of course, had received the death penalty when he was sentenced, and had perished almost two years ago now. Viserion was finishing his plate of meat, and he turned to Sansa with a flick of his tongue and looked up at her. She smiled at him, but there wasn't any real joy in it; she was too anxious.

“Ramsay Bolton is cruel.” Dany said, reaching out to softly stroke Drogon’s head. “He will get what’s coming to him.”

“He will.” Yara agreed.

"Even if we have to do it?" She looked slyly up at them. It occured to her that they were discussing murder, but as long as they didn't move right on into plotting... It was okay. That was what she told herself.

“Especially if we have to.” Yara crossed her arms. “I want to kill him myself. I’d like nothing more.”

"If it comes to it, you can have him," Sansa promised. She curled her legs beneath her and propped herself up to look at Yara very seriously. "I think I'd like to see that, if we're being honest."

“I hope you’ll get to see it.” Yara knelt down next to Dany on the floor, reaching out to pat Rhaegal’s scaly head. “We can feed him to these big lizard boys after.”

“Dragons.” Dany corrected.

“Dragons, sorry.” Yara agreed.

Sansa laughed. "The fiercest dragons," she said, petting Viserion's back. "Where did you get them, Daenerys?"

Daenerys paused, looking over to Yara. “Oh, you know... from eggs.”

"From... eggs?" Sansa echoed. "Like... You just found them? Just laying around?"

“They were a gift.” Dany shrugged, looking fondly down at them.

From who, Sansa longed to ask, but she didn't think she would get a straight answer on that either. Viserion seemed to have enough of her, and he turned away to tromp over to his mama on bandy legs. He nudged his way past Drogon to reach her hand.

“Hi, baby boy.” Dany cooed, patting his head. “Hello, mommy is right here, yes. I love you too.”

Yara snorted, shaking her head. “Maybe we should send these three bad boys after Bolton.”

"They'd tear him right up!" Sansa said. "Fierce dragons! I could send the wolfdogs as backup." She never would send animals after him, it just wasn't fair to them, but it was fun to joke about at least.

They all chuckled for a minute, but Yara’s expression soon sobered, and she reached out to place a hand on Sansa’s shoulder. It was heavy, firm, but not in an intimidating way. “Stark- Thank you for coming over. I know you care about my brother the same as I do.”

"He's like a brother to me, too," Sansa said. "He's been Robb's best friend since I was six. I just want the both of them home, safe."

“Me too, little Stark. Me too.” Yara sighed, looking to Dany. Her girlfriend, beautiful and loving and kind, who made it seem as if everything would be okay. If not for her... Yara wasn’t sure how she’d be handling the disappearance of her brother. It was hard, but Dany made it so she didn’t have to face it alone. She smiled a little, reaching out to take her hand, then turned her head to look back at Sansa. “We will find them. My brother and yours. We will watch them marry. I promise.”


	22. Chapter 22

Theon felt horrible, sitting alone on his cot with his knees hugged against his chest. He deserved Ramsay, yes, deserved the pain and cruelty that he had yet to be given this time. He deserved to hurt, to bleed, to ache. He hurt Robb. Robb was being hurt because of him, even if he wasn’t the one physically wounding him. He was bad, horrible, worse than Ramsay. Yes. Ramsay was only doing what he had to do to show Theon how bad he was. How bad Theon was for everyone. He’d brought Robb nothing but pain. He didn’t deserve someone so good, so loving. He deserved pain and darkness and hurt. 

His head was achy and his skin felt a bit hot, tears swimming in his vision. His nose had been a bit runny, and the sleeves of Ramsay’s hoodie that he wore were covered in dried snot. He wasn’t sure if it was all from crying too much or something else, but either way, he deserved the discomfort. 

He looked up as the door to his room opened, looking like a scared little puppy in Ramsay’s oversized hoodie, shrunken in on himself, eyes wide and wet. “R-rams.” 

"Hi, pet." Ramsay came across the room and sat beside Theon on the cot, crossing his legs. He leaned in and kissed him, and pulled away again after a second. "You've been pretty quiet today. Are you feeling okay?"

Theon shook his head, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve. He wasn’t feeling okay at all. He felt horrible, in every sense of the word, and he looked just as miserable as he felt. He looked from Ramsay then back down at his knees. “No...” 

Ramsay felt his forehead. "You're warm, pet. Lay down, okay? I'll get you some cold water." They might have some fever pills laying around somewhere too, but he wasn't sure. If they didn't, he would have to send somebody out to get them. Luton or Skinner, since they weren't known fugitives.

“‘M fine...” Theon mumbled, shaking his head. He didn’t deserve comfort. He deserved to suffer, deserved discomfort and pain. “‘m bad.” 

"Oh, pup, why do you think you're bad? You've been very good for me," Ramsay said. He stroked Theon's hair back from his face, toying with the soft strands. He had been keeping him clean and fed, so he wasn't sure why he was getting sick.

“I should- I should be hurt...” Theon slurred, eyes half-lidded and vision hazy. He was bad, so bad, wicked and gross and not good at all. Robb kept being hurt because of him. 

"No, you shouldn't." Ramsay slid closer to him and put his hand on Theon's thigh. "Why do you think that?"

“I’m bad.” Theon looked at him, exhaustion clear on his face. He hadn’t been sleeping much at all, and when he did, it wasn’t very well. “I- I need to be hurt.”

"Is this because of the Wolf?" Ramsay asked, sighing. "Don't worry about him, pup. He's not worth it. He thinks you've betrayed him, hates you, but you did nothing wrong. You only took pleasure in something that felt good."

“He- he hates me?” Theon asked, voice barely above a whisper. “He hates me...” Something in his expression shattered as Ramsay’s words set in. Of course Robb would hate him. He orgasmed while watching as Robb was raped. Forced from him or not, he still came. He was bad, disloyal, and he deserved the hate. He deserved it. Hate and pain. “Master...” Theon moaned pitifully, feeling himself slip back a bit into his old ways. It didn’t matter that Ramsay had said he didn’t need to call him anymore. He was hurting, breaking, and the ice blue eyes staring down at him belonged to his master. 

"Shh, don't call me that. Remember? You're not a bitch or a toy anymore, pup. Theon. You're mine, right? All mine." Ramsay kissed him again.

“‘m bad.” He sounded so weak, felt weak, his skin so hot and yet he felt so cold. He shivered, scooting closer to Ramsay. He was almost like a little heater, curling up against Ramsay’s side. “I-I’m bad. Bad.” 

"You're so good for me, pet. You're perfect." Ramsay wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into his lap. "Perfect for me." Theon was his, all his, and soon he could take him home.

“Don’t feel good...” He hid his face against Ramsay’s chest, taking whatever small comforts he could. Robb hated him. He hated him, and Theon deserved it. 

Ramsay unfastened the chain from Theon's wrist cuffs and scooped him up into his arms. "Come on, pup. I'll take you upstairs and find something for you. I'll make you feel better."

“No... I’m bad...” Theon shook his head. He was feeling worse by the second, his belly twisting and turning. 

"No, you're not," Ramsay said. He carried Theon from the room and up the wooden stairs, into the living room. The Boys were in there, and they all looked up in surprise when Ramsay came in with Theon.

“Bad...” Theon repeated, curling up tighter in his arms. “Don’t feel good. I don’t feel good at all.” 

"Rams, why did you bring him up here?" Luton snapped. He threw down his video game controller and glared at Theon. Skinner sighed and paused their game, leaning back in his chair to watch, Damon settled in his lap.

"He's sick," Ramsay said curtly.

Damon looked over at them, and Stephanie perked up from her sleep in his lap at the sight of Theon. Damon shushed her. 

“Sick...” Theon repeated weakly, clutching at Ramsay’s shirt with his fists. “Let me... Robb.. I want Robb.” 

"He doesn't want you, remember?" Ramsay said, not too gently. Yellow Dick and Sour Alyn exchanged amused looks. "You have me. I'm all you need."

“He don’t... doesn’t...” Theon looked up at him, eyes hooded and tired and bloodshot. “Let ‘im go then? Got you. I- I got you.” 

"We'll let him go when we're going home," Ramsay promised. He stroked his hair back and set him down to sit on the end of the couch. Luton scowled and pulled his feet back, away from Theon, and he sat up. "Sit here, okay pup? I'll be back with some water."

Theon, curled up in the corner of the couch, peered over at Damon and his kitten. Stephanie hopped off Damon’s lap, and he reluctantly let her go over to Theon. He cracked a little smile, patting her tiny fuzzy head. “Hi kitty.” He mumbled. 

Stephanie trilled, butting her head against Theon's hand and climbing up his pant leg to curl up on his lap. When Ramsay returned, bearing a glass of cold water and a couple of fever pills, he stopped and stared. 

"She likes you?" he asked, kneeling beside the couch.

Theon nodded, continuing to gently pet the little kitten. “She’s a good girl.” 

“She’s mine.” Damon snapped, giving Ramsay a harsh, pointed look. “She’s visiting him. He is her friend. I am her mother.” 

"I know she's yours, Damon. Kind of hard to forget that. You smuggled her from fucking Essos in your sweatshirt pocket." Ramsay reached out to stroke Stepphie's soft head.

“I love her.” Theon mumbled, smiling weakly at the kitten as Damon watched warily. “I-I miss my Queenie.” 

"We'll get Queenie before we go," Ramsay said. He held the pills and water up to Theon. "Take these, pup."

“I wanna go home, Rams.” Theon’s lower lip was beginning to tremble. 

"We'll go home soon, okay?" Ramsay helped him to swallow back the pills and sip some water, one hand on his overheated forehead. "Drink up, pup. You have to feel better before we can go."

He hesitated, but ended up taking a few more sips of water, keeping one hand busy petting Stepphie the whole time. “I-I don’t feel good, Rams, I don’t.” 

"You'll feel better soon," Ramsay said. Luton mimed vomiting to the others, and Sour Alyn and Yellow Dick laughed. Skinner smirked.

“I-I want Robb.” Theon whimpered, and the tears that had been welling up in his eyes began to overflow. “He hates me.”

"He does," Ramsay breathed, eyes wide and focused on Theon's face. "Loathes you. Thinks you betrayed him. But I don't. I love you. You're my sweet pet."

“I didn’t mean to betray him!” Theon insisted, the volume of his voice increasing as he stared back at Ramsay. “I-I didn’t, I didn’t!” 

"You didn't betray him," Ramsay said. He was deeply aware of the Boys' eyes trained on them, judging. They didn't matter. "You're faithful to me."

"Yeah," Luton drawled. He watched them with sharp, narrowed eyes. "We were all getting off, you were just fitting in. Right?"

“N-no, no,” Theon shut his eyes tight. “You r-raped him. You raped him and you forced me to watch, a-and you forced me to- forced me to...” He trailed off. 

"Forced you to cum? You did that pretty eagerly," Luton jeered. He mimicked Theon's gasping cries as he had orgasmed and fell back, laughing cruelly. Ramsay shot him a fiery glare. 

"Enough!" he snapped, slamming his fist down. Stephanie hopped from Theon's lap, startled, and darted back to Damon and Skinner.

Damon glared at Ramsay and then at Luton, and if looks could kill, they’d both be dead. “If you ever, ever, scare my kitten like that again,” He clutched her protectively to his chest, “I will hang you from the ceiling and whip you until all your skin hangs off your body in bloody fucking strips. I don’t care who you are. Got it?”

Theon looked at Damon, eyes wide with horror. 

"Yeah, whatever," Ramsay drawled. He wasn't worried. Damon couldn't touch him. "Drink more, okay pet? If you want to feel better soon, so we can go home. We all want to go home."

Damon gave Ramsay another filthy look before standing up from Skinner’s lap and storming out of the room with his kitten in his arms. 

“Why- no- I wanna go home, why are they coming?” Theon whimpered. 

"They live there too, pet," Ramsay pointed out. He shot Luton another foul look. "They'll treat you better there, though. I love you, so they have to."

“No?” Theon whined, squirmed. “Home. Where I was with- with Robb.” He looked down at his hands in his lap, brows furrowing, confusion slowly creeping across his expression. “My- my ring- where’d my ring go?”

It was, of course, with Sansa, but Theon was sleepy and sick and his brain wasn’t working quite right. It had been over a week, almost two, without seeing the ring, but it was just registering now that his finger was bare. 

"I don't know where the ring is," Ramsay said quietly, a hint of danger now in his voice. That wasn't home anymore, home was with him, and the ring... If he could get it... "Did you leave it with somebody?"

“I dunno... did you take it?” He reached for Ramsay, wanting warmth, wanting comfort. He felt so sick, so gross and bad. He wanted to claw at himself, but he knew he shouldn’t. 

"I didn't. You didn't have it when I found you," Ramsay said. He scooped up Theon again and carried him this time into the kitchen, holding him like a child with Theon's legs wrapped around his waist. He filled another glass of cold water.

“Must’a- must’ve lost it. Bad. I’m bad. You gonna hurt me?” Theon asked, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. 

"No, I'm not going to hurt you," Ramsay said. He held the glass to Theon's lips, having him take a small sip. "As long as you don't wear it, I'm happy. And you can't wear it if you don't have it."

Theon nodded slowly. “Does Robb... does he really hate me?” 

"Yes," Ramsay replied, frowning. "I've seen him. He thinks you betrayed him, like I said. He doesn't want to see you."

He let out a tiny, weak sob. Robb... it didn’t seem like Robb to hate him, to blame him. But then again, Robb had never seen anything of Ramsay’s abuse with his own eyes. This time, he’d watched as Theon came while he was raped over and over. It had happened right in front of him. So it made sense, really... he clutched Ramsay’s shirt, curling up tighter against him as tears began to flow steadily. 

"Sorry, pup," Ramsay said, not sorry at all. He wrapped his arm more securely around him and carried him to his own room. He didn't have a big, comfortable bed in the safehouse like he did at his old home, but he did have a ceiling fan, and the air was cool and comfortable in the room as he laid Theon down on his bed.

Theon cling to him, fists holding onto his shirt, reluctant to let go. Reluctant to stop being held. “I-I- please, Rams...” he wanted to be held, that was all. He wanted his heart to stop hurting. 

Ramsay sat beside him, cradling Theon to his chest. He ran his fingers through his soft curls, smiling to himself. Theon was his again, truly his, and as soon as he was feeling better he could bring him to Essos and never have to worry about the Wolf stealing him again.

Theon nuzzled his face against his chest, hiding his tears, letting them soak into Ramsay’s shirt. “I hurt.” He whimpered, soft and muffled. 

"I know, pet. I'm sorry. I'll have you feeling better soon, okay? Drink a lot, and sleep." He had a vague memory of his mother taking care of him when he was sick as a child, but Ramsay was always pretty healthy, and self sufficient as he grew older. She hadn't been the fondest of the product of her rape, but she did her duty when it was needed.

“My heart.” He nuzzled closer to him, moaning pitifully. “It hurts.” It hurt horribly, the aching in his chest, more than his head or belly or anything. 

Ramsay bent his head and kissed Theon gently on his chest, just over his heart. It was a tender and sweet gesture, very unlike him, but Theon's face when he looked at him... He leaned in and kissed his lips, too.

Theon didn’t kiss back, and when Ramsay pulled back, he hid his face against his chest once again. He shivered, and curled up closer to him. “‘m tired, but I hurt..” 

"Sleep, pet," Ramsay murmured. He held Theon until he had grown still, his breathing slow and even, and he let him go carefully to rest on the mattress. He locked the door behind him; in case Theon woke, he didn't want him coming to see where he had gone. He had some other business to attend to, downstairs.


	23. Chapter 23

Robb had been alone for a long time. Every part of him was aching, and when the Boys had finished they left him in this prone position with his arms tangled and cuffed, chain a mess so he couldn't right himself. After what felt like forever, the one called Skinner had come to sit him upright and untangle his chain, and he even cleaned and restitched the reopened gunshot wound, though he did it all with a scowl on his face. Robb wasn't fool enough to think that Skinner liked him, or even that he was a good person. None of them wanted to deal with the wound getting infected and any complications that might be borne of that. He didn't mind, though. He knew where he stood here, at least, and he knew his chances.

After Bolton had taken Theon out, the other Boys had kept going for what felt like the entire night. Even still, they came and went and _came_ when they wanted, leaving him a wreck every time. Robb didn't know how much longer he could take it. He wanted Theon, wanted to hold him and kiss him, wanted the comfort he would offer. He missed home, sleeping beside Theon every night in a king size bed with the dogs at their feet. Waking up in the morning and making breakfast for Theon before he went to work and Robb went to his classes... Hells, he would be failing all of his classes now.

He missed feeling warm and comfortable. Feeling safe. He didn't know if he would ever have that again.

The room was pitch black and he was uncomfortable. The chain was still around his throat and the pole, loose enough to breathe easily, but he wouldn't be moving anywhere. His rear ached mercilessly, between the forced sitting and the parade of men walking in and out to rape him at their leisure. His cuffed wrists lay in his lap, and he stared blankly into the darkness. There could be anything in this room with him and he wouldn't see it, wouldn't know it. He wouldn't necessarily object if there was a rat... He was so hungry, his stomach rumbled endlessly and it felt like it was eating itself. His mouth was dry and cottony, and sometimes his head swam if he moved too much. He had passed out once, when Luton came in to release some pent-up frustrations, and came to with the man grunting over him and pain shooting through him. He had briefly wished that he hadn't woken up at all, but then he thought of Theon and he sobbed.

Sometimes, Bolton came in. He had raped him only once more, in a heat of fury and lust that he couldn't unleash on Theon. Or wouldn't. Robb didn't know anymore. More often than not, he came to aggravate old inflicted wounds and give new ones, or just to talk at him. During one visit, Bolton had taken that dreaded needle and stabbed every single freckle on Robb's face, the freckles that Theon so adored, then held his face in a vice grip and licked up the thin trails of blood. Then he had spat in his face, and Robb was condemned to sit and feel it dry along with the blood still slowly welling up.

Robb hated him, more than he had ever hated another being. His eyes were pale like a ghost, colder than ice, and so cruel. They danced with fiery mirth every time Robb flinched or cringed away from his touch, or cried out, or whenever he did something to ruin 'his pretty face'. But nothing he did was extreme, not like the Boys, and no cuts were too deep. Nothing would leave permanent scars, and Robb wondered what exactly Bolton was trying to accomplish with it. It still hurt to talk with his pierced tongue, hurt to blink with his pricked eyelids, but they would heal in time and Bolton would have no evidence of having done anything to him. The only thing Robb could think was that Bolton wanted a fresh canvas for some point in time, for some aggrandized game that would ultimately destroy him.

If that was what was to come, Robb only hoped that Theon was safe for it.

* * *

Ramsay pushed the door open, bathing the little room in bright light. He watched in amusement as Robb shrank back, squinting against the sudden illumination. "Hello, little Wolf," he greeted. Robb glared back at him. Ramsay shut the door behind him, but clicked the light switch on. He leaned against the wall, letting himself slide easily down it to sit on the floor. He stretched one leg out carelessly and bent the other overtop it, and he grinned at Robb with a playful edge. "I've been with Theon."

"Stay away from him."

"He does love me, Stark. So, so much..." Ramsay tilted his head and stared at Robb. The blood had scabbed over his freckles and made a wash of ugly red marks all over his face, so vastly different from the pretty spots they once were. His eyes were still such a striking blue, though. One day, Ramsay hoped to see them carved out of his skull.

"He doesn't. He's afraid of you. Just let me see him, Bolton." Robb swallowed his pride, not taking his eyes off Ramsay even as he softened his glare. "Please."

"No," Ramsay said briskly. "He's mine, all mine, and he doesn't need your influence on him anymore. He doesn't even want you anymore."

"That's not true, I know it's not true! I love him, he— he loves me." Robb's eyes stung with unshed tears and he made a desperate sound, cheeks red with anger. He missed Theon so much it was it was horrible ache in his chest. Ramsay laughed again.

"What's the matter, Stark? Does the ugly bastard finally have something that you don't? Is the Young Wolf jealous?" Ramsay's grin grew sharper. "He's sick, you know, and all he wanted was for me to hold him. He's so sweet like this..."

"Let me see him!" Robb yanked on his chain, but Ramsay only laughed louder over the clattering.

"What part of 'no' don't you understand? You have nothing! Theon's mine, and you're never going to go home! You'll never see that stinking mutt of yours again, or your pretty sisters and mother, or your brothers... When we leave, you'll die on the docks. I'll slit your pretty throat myself, and watch you bleed out."

Robb shook his head, speechless. Ramsay pulled his legs back, sitting up. "It's going to be soon, Stark. Don't get too comfortable down here... As soon as Theon's fever breaks, that's it for you."

"He won't let you kill me."

"We'll see." Ramsay stood up, leaving just as swiftly as he had come in. Robb slumped back. Theon wouldn't let him die, not like that, but... Would Ramsay lash out against Theon if he tried to intervene? If Theon was well and truly broken again, would he even attempt it?

Guilt immediately washed over him. How could he doubt Theon like that? But still... He wished he could muster up the confidence he had presented in his denial. It didn't look good for him, or for Theon, and all he wanted was to go back in time and let this never happen. He would be more careful, if he could have a do-over. He should have taken the threat of Ramsay's escape more seriously. Theon had. Theon was petrified, but Robb only brushed it off. Essos was far enough, he had thought. No. Nothing was far enough, because Ramsay wouldn't quit. This wouldn't stop until Ramsay was dead, and Robb didn't see how he could accomplish that. As much faith as he did have in Theon, he couldn't see him killing Ramsay either. He had no idea where they were, and nobody else would either. Nobody was coming to rescue them. They were alone, and they were doomed.

In the dark again, Robb let the tension bleed from his muscles. They were doomed, and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

Damon was lying on the bed in only a pair of briefs, Stephanie lying on his lap and Skinner sitting up reading next to him, when Ramsay walked in. He sat up as well, looking at his old friend. “What do you want, Rams?” He sighed.

Ramsay sat down on the end of their bed, signing heavily as though he hadn't just intruded on them. "I'm getting impatient," he announced.

“And I’m getting annoyed. I’m sick of seeing your pet mope and hearing him cry. I’m sick of hearing the Young Wolf scream and sob. I’m sick of this ugly ass house, yeah? I miss the fucking farm. Miss being fucking normal, and just enjoying my time with Skinner and my fucking cat. But please, tell me what’s making you impatient?” Damon forced a sneer onto his face, but his exhaustion showed in the bags under his eyes, the sad bit of homesickness showed in his eyes himself. The farm had felt like home, truly home, something he’d never felt before.

Ramsay recoiled. He'd come in to vent, but... The initial hurt ebbed away and irritation surged. "I want to go home too, Damon! Not to that stinking fucking farm, I mean home home! I don't want to fucking be here either!" He drew in a sharp breath and tried to calm his voice. "I wanted to be leaving by now, but Theon got sick. So we have to wait until he's better."

“The stinking fucking farm- that farm was better than your shitty fucking medieval castle was. If you say that felt like home, you’re full of fucking shit!” Damon snapped.

Ramsay, who had never felt welcome in the house of his mother and only little more so in his father's, stared at Damon, who had known much the same. His best friend... "It's the only one I've ever had," Ramsay retorted, a little defensively.

“We.” Damon corrected. “It was never your home, we were. We were fucking home, Rams. Me and Skinner, and all the other boys. It only ever felt like home because we were there. And that fucking farm you apparently hate so much- that farm felt good. It felt safe. It felt like home. An actual stable fucking home.” He shook his head, clutching Stephanie to him. “I have somewhere to go home to now, not just someone. And I’m not happy to give it up for your fucking pet.”

"You don't have to give it up, Damon," Ramsay said. "I'm— We're all going back, as soon as we can. We'll take him and slay the Wolf, and go home. We'll never be found, so long as we're careful."

“Killing Robb Stark isn’t fucking careful.” Damon looked over to Skinner, who’d been sitting in silence for the entire conversation.

Skinner turned the page in his book, trying to remain impartial, but the words were fuzzy on the pages and he couldn't focus. "It's stupid," he agreed.

"If I let him go alive, he'll run to his little pack and tell them everything. It's either kill him, or cut out his tongue and fingers."

“You never should have taken him.” Damon looked back to Ramsay, glaring. “I was happy on the farm.“

"If I didn't take him, we'd be caught already!" Ramsay pointed out. There was no way in the seven hells that Robb Stark would let them waltz out with Theon safely. "We'll be back there soon, okay? And we can all be happy again."

“No. We can’t. We can’t, and you know it. Shit will never be normal for us. And even if Theon loves you, if he ends up loving you, it’s fucking Stockholm syndrome.” Damon spat. “I’m sorry, Ramsay. But the only people who’ve ever genuinely loved you are us. The boys. Your boys. And you’re trading our safety for someone you have to chain and trick in order to make them care for you.”

Ramsay stood up. "He does—!" He did love him, he had to love him... But what if Damon was right? What if this all went horribly south and he had doomed his friends? Rather than let the intrusive thoughts win over, he stormed from the room and slammed the door behind him.

Skinner watched with an arched brow. "You're right, Damon. He knows it, too."

Damon sighed, shifting to snatch the book out of Skinner’s hand and lay his head on his lap instead. “I love him, Skinner, I do. He’s my best friend. But all this... I’m not used to being afraid, or longing for something. But I’m fucking scared, babe.”

Skinner reached to snag the book back, but it was futile. He would just have to find his page tomorrow. "I'm worried, too," he admitted, sinking back into the pillows. Damon's hair was silky smooth between his fingers as he played with it. "We'll give it a bit, then try to talk to him again. Okay? Besides, he says we'll leave as soon as Theon is better."

“He doesn’t love Ramsay.” Damon leaned into the touches. “He won’t be happy. Brainwashed, maybe. But happy?” He subtly shook his head. “It’ll never be a normal relationship. That’s what Ramsay wants, and he won’t be happy when his pet’s love isn’t real.”

"Then he'll kill him, and get over it." Skinner shrugged. "He'll be miserable for a while, but he'll have his girls. He'll have us. Ramsay will be fine, no matter what happens. We'll all be fine."

“That’s not true and you know it. I fucking feel it. In my gut, I feel it. This isn’t going to end well.”


	24. Chapter 24

Theon didn’t get better. If anything, when he woke up the next day, he was worse. He threw up a few times, too feverish to focus on anything, every pill he took for his headache being puked right back up. His belly was empty yet it cramped and twisted, and he himself was twisting and turning on the bed, moaning pitifully. He was achy and cold, chills running through him, yet his skin was so hot to the touch. He felt like a helpless child, unable to do anything to help himself other than drink the water Ramsay brought him and try his best not to throw it back up.

Ramsay hardly left his side, even as the Boys grew angry and restless. They were fine; more often than not, Stark's wails rang down the hallway and could be heard in Theon's room, and Ramsay knew the Boys were having some fun while they waited. Despite Theon throwing up whatever he tried to give him, he was persistent in his efforts, and spoon-fed him soup every night. It was almost reminiscent of Sansa feeding Theon soup on the daily when he first returned home.

"You have to eat to get better," Ramsay said, echoing a mother he had once seen in a television show. "Okay, pup? It's chicken."

“Gonna make me throw up.” He whimpered, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I don’t wanna, I don’t, I- I’m tired of puking.”

"You'll feel worse if you don't eat," Ramsay whispered, placing a hand on Theon's stomach. "You'll hurt even more. I don't want you hurting, pet." The 'not anymore' went unspoken.

“I’ll puke. I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna, I don’t!” Theon shook his head again, squirming fitfully beneath Ramsay’s hand.

"Can you do just one spoonful for me, please?" Ramsay teased the spoon against his lips, but didn't force it, just enough to let a drop of soup hit his lips for a taste.

“I want Robb.” He let that one drop trickle into his mouth, but no more than that.

"Who?" Ramsay asked, irritation plain on his face. He set the spoon back in the bowl, picking up a water bottle instead.

“Robb. If- if he doesn’t want me to see him, prove it. Bring me to him. Please. It- if you’re telling the truth, it won’t hurt anything. Let me see Robb. I want him. I want him!” He practically wailed.

"There is no more Robb, pup." Ramsay brushed his hair back, touch sweet and gentle, though his eyes were cold and flinty. "We only have the Wolf captive. You can hear him howling now, can't you?"

“Bring me to him. I- I won’t love you, I won’t, unless you prove it.” His voice was weak, despite the raw emotion in it, and when he looked at Ramsay, even his eyes seemed dulled. He didn’t feel well enough to keep his gaze focused on him, however, and his eyes fell back shut.

"Not today," Ramsay said after a long moment. He felt Theon's forehead, still burning up. "You're still sick. You have to get better before I take you anywhere, okay? I don't want you getting sicker because of the Wolf."

“Hate you.” Theon mumbled. “I- I hate you.”

One step forward, two steps back. If only Ramsay could give him just one good smack... Though he'd really like to do a little more than that right now. His hand itched for the handle of a blade and the feel of a screaming, writhing body underneath his, but he couldn't. Not to Theon, not anymore. Not if he wanted Theon to love him like he had before. This though, was utter bullshit.

"You don't. You're sick, and confused," he said, voice taut and more than a little annoyed.

“I do. I do! I hate you! I hate you!” Theon began raising his voice, like a child who wasn’t getting their way. He was sick and felt sad and yucky, and all his normal inhibitions were out the window. “I don’t want you!”

All previous thought flew from his mind in a burst of rage and Ramsay lashed out, hitting Theon across the face hard enough to knock him sideways, a loud _smack_ ringing across the room. Ramsay flinched back as though he had been struck, and he looked quicky at Theon with his split lip and swelling cheek, his soon-to-be black eye, and he slid off the bed and stormed out of the room without another word.

Theon cried out when he was hit, clutching his face, the hit having highly increased the pain of his headache. He wailed at the pain, his vulnerability making it feel worse than it normally would.

Ramsay leaned against the door on the other side and listened, panting hard as he tried to come down from his rage, but all he wanted was to beat the message in deep, tell this rebellious pup that he was his, but that bratty thing would never succumb to it again. No, he had lived too long in the Wolf's den, and he was lost to him. Lost so long as the Wolf was alive and still able to howl. He wouldn't be, couldn't be, not for long.

Ramsay stomped off down the hall, his head still pulsing with steaming fury, and threw open the door to the Wolf's pen. Yellow Dick looked up, saw him, and pulled out hurriedly, cock dripping as he put himself away and hurried from the room, out of Ramsay's sight. The Wolf didn't even glance up, just laid limply on the floor. Ramsay kicked it hard in the gut and it let out a piteous sound, rolling into its back. Ramsay scowled down at it.

"Week and a half, we've had you. You know that? How many times have they fed you, anyways?" Ramsay swept his gaze down the Wolf's body, disgust clear in his eyes. "Once? If at all?"

The Wolf shook its head. "Not at all, then? Good." Ramsay squatted beside it, grabbed it by the cheeks. "How about water, hm? Two glasses, three? Four?" A moment passed, and the Wolf's lips moved to form the word three, but no sound escaped it. Ramsay's scowl deepened. "Did they drug you? You're not fun like this, you know." He rifled in his sweatshirt pocket and pulled out another water bottle, one that he had meant to give to Theon. He unscrewed the cap and dripped some water into the Wolf's mouth. Its tongue licked hopefully at its lips, and Ramsay gave it some more. Giving it the water was a slow-going process, and when the bottle was empty, Ramsay crinkled it and threw it aside. The Wolf seemed more aware now, if only slightly, and Ramsay was beginning to suspect that one of the Boys had indeed drugged it. And he was still angry. So.

He stood and went to the table with the box and assorted toys, and he could feel the Wolf's eyes on him all the while. "Can you howl for me, Wolf? You were for Yellow Dick, so prettily. I love a wolf's howl. It's like music... Make some music for me, Wolfie." He grabbed the short, heavy chain and swung it at the Wolf, beating it down to the ground from where it had attempted to sit up. The Wolf yelped, blood at its lips when the chain caught it on the side of the face, where he had struck Theon. "I said howl, Wolf! Let the fucking world know what's happening to you! Scream, beg, do something! I want you screaming!" He swung the chain harder, and it did scream, and Ramsay laughed in utter euphoria, but the next blow caught it around the head too hard and it slipped sideways, falling limp to the ground with its eyes shut and Ramsay threw the chain at it, and then he was screaming. Screaming in frustration, because nothing he was doing was working and all he wanted was for the damned Wolf to be out of his life for good, was for Theon to be his truly, and to go the fuck home. He wanted Damon to get off his back and be his best friend again, wanted his girls, wanted his Heli back, but none of it was within his reach. He screamed again, hoarse and guttural, and threw the toybox at the Wolf as well, watching as its contents went flying every which way, then he overturned the table with a heart-stopping crash. Still, the Wolf lay prone and unconscious, and Ramsay couldn't look at it anymore. He stormed from this room as well, but he had nowhere else to run to. He just wanted to go home.

* * *

Nearly two weeks with no sign of her brother had Sansa feeling hopeless. She went to Margaery’s, not wanting to be at home, feeling safer curled up on the couch with her girlfriend.

“It will be okay, my little red wolf.” Margaery spoke gently, stroking Sansa’s hair with slender fingers.

"I leave in three days," she whispered. "I'm going to look while I'm there, but... What if we never find them? It's been almost two weeks."

“You will. Don’t lose hope.” She placed a soft kiss atop her head, offering a reassuring smile.

"I love you." Her girlfriend was so sweet and beautiful, those thick brown curls falling so prettily around her face as Margaery bent over her. Still, she couldn't wipe the image of a beaten and abused Theon from her mind, an image she was all too familiar with, and couldn't stop herself from imagining Robb in the same shape.

“Remember. They have each other.” Margaery moved a hand down to caress her cheek. “I love you too, Sansa. You have me, always. I’m here for you. I will help in any way I can.”

"You help just by being here with me," she said, leaning into her touch. Between Margaery and Lady, she had a good support system. Lady had been mothering Queenie lately, though, with the little dog so morose over her missing dads. According to Jon, Grey Wind was much the same way and hardly moved from his spot on the floor beside the window.

“I worry too. I know it’s nothing compared to how you must be feeling, but... your brothers- brother and his fiancé, sorry- they’re kind. They’re good. I like being around them. They will find their way home, I promise you.” It wasn’t really something she could promise, but Margaery was optimistic, and she knew Robb and Theon would do anything for each other.

"Yeah," Sansa said hopefully. "They will. If they don't escape, we'll find them and save them. And Ra—" She started to say that Ramsay would die, but stopped herself. That wasn't something she should broadcast. "Ramsay will... Go back to jail, I guess. Hopefully he'll stay this time."

“He’ll get the death penalty.” Margaery’s voice grew firm. “After all he’s done, he can’t be trusted. My family has connections to other powerful families, and so does yours. We will not let him have a chance of roaming free again.”

"No," Sansa agreed. "And the others, too? What about them?" She didn't want the slightest chance of them getting taken or hurt again walking around, so if they all had to die... No, she pushed the thought away. They were nothing without Ramsay.

“Do you think they’d be a risk without Ramsay around?” Margaery combed her fingers through Sansa’s hair.

"Probably not," she sighed. She slipped her eyes shut, enjoying Margaery's attentions. "I think he's the guts, and probably the only reason they came back to Westeros."

“Let’s hope so, my little red wolf.” She smiled down at her girlfriend, even if Sansa couldn’t see it. “It’ll be alright.”

"You're right... I love you, sweet rose," Sansa murmured.

“And I love you.” Margaery leaned down, softly kissing Sansa’s forehead. “With every single bit of my heart. I adore you, Sansa. I love you. It will be okay.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** warning for sexual assault

"A promise is a promise, right pup?" Ramsay forced a cheery expression and gathered Theon up from his cot. The chain was held tight in Ramsay's hands, but Theon had been given a clean new outfit to wear, a soft hoodie and jogger pants with fresh socks, and Ramsay guided him along gently enough. "I'll let you see the Wolf. One on condition. You have to do what I say, okay?"

“Yes!” Theon exclaimed, perking up at the mention of Robb. “I- yes. Yes. I’ll be good.” His fever had broken, and he was feeling better, but he still stumbled as he followed after Ramsay. 

Ramsay started to assure Theon that he was always a good pup, but the memory of the other day slew the words on his tongue. He grimaced instead, bringing Theon down the hall to the Wolf's room. 

"Quiet," he warned. "It's gotten touchy." The room was still a hazardous mess, with stray objects littering the floor, but the table had been righted and the box was set back on its surface. The Wolf lay on its side, breathing shallowly. It didn't look up as they entered, likely fearing it to be just Ramsay again.

“Robb!” Theon exclaimed, running toward him, but the chain was held too short in Ramsay’s hands, so he quickly was stopped short and fell onto the floor. 

"Slow," he snapped, bringing Theon back to his side. The Wolf was sitting up now, blinking its eyes to focus on Theon, and a bit of spark was returning to them. "Remember what you promised me, pup?"

Theon paused, slowly turning back to Ramsay. “I- yes, master... I-I mean Ramsay. Yes.” He nodded quickly. 

"Come over here, pet," he said, leading him to the table. He showed him the toybox. "Pick something out of here, okay? Something like..." He rifled through and came up with an assortment of handsome flaying knives.

“I-“ He took one of the knives being held out to him, looking at it then back at Ramsay with wide eyes. “Wh-why?” 

"Show me you love me," Ramsay said, eyes widening with intensity. "Cut him up, nice and pretty for me, okay?"

“You- I- what?!” Theon looked to Robb, eyes growing even wider with horror. “I- Rams, what do- what do you mean?” 

The Wolf watched anxiously. "Show me you're serious, pup," Ramsay urged, bringing Theon's attention back to him. "You're mine, right? Prove it." He pressed a knife into Theon's hands. "Carve him up, destroy that pretty face. I kept it clean and nice just for you, see?"

“His- his face?” Theon’s voice grew weaker, and he was beginning to tremble. “You want me to- to cut him? Me?” 

"His face. I got a headstart, see? I cut those pretty little freckles. Why don't you play connect-the-dots with them, hm? Cut the skin right from his face and see what kinds of patterns you can make." Ramsay's eyes glittered with sadistic glee, and a hint of lust.

Theon took a tentative step toward Robb, staring at him. “He- he said you hate me.” He mumbled. “You think I betrayed you. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to- I don’t. I don’t, I can’t- Robb, I can’t help it, I’m sorry...” He looked down at the knife, then over to Ramsay again. “Rams, please...” 

"Go on," Ramsay said encouragingly. 

Robb stared up at Theon, fear thick his gut. Whatever Ramsay threw at him, Robb could lay and take it, but Theon? He tried to speak but he had no words, could only shake his head mutely. No, he wanted to plead, please Theon, no...

“I have to...” Theon’s voice was weak, so weak as he took a step closer. He took another step, then another, seeing how close he could get to Robb. He had the knife. He could turn around and stab Ramsay right now. He shook a little more as he thought of it, panic beginning to swirl around his heart, rising in his throat. He could. He could kill Ramsay and get out of there, him and Robb, or stab Ramsay then run to the cops and throw him back into prison. 

"Look at how he's staring at you!" Ramsay jeered. "Those big, round eyes! So blue! Theon, why don't you take that knife and carve my name into those pretty blue eyes? We'll see how he looks at you then."

“I- Rams- I- I need you.” Theon turned his head, his own eyes big and pretty and green, staring back at Ramsay. “I don’t- I don’t know- I need you.” He needed him closer, close enough to stab. 

Ramsay moved towards him, smirking at the Wolf as it stared up at him, shrinking back against its pole. He took Theon's arm, sliding his hand in a gentle caress down his arm to hold his wrist, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the blade with Theon's.

"Together?" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Theon's cheek.

“No... I can. I can, Rams, I just- I just need you here, next to me I- I’ve never... I need you.” Theon’s voice shook nearly as bad as his hands. 

"Thee," the Wolf rasped. 

"I'm here with you," Ramsay said, talking over him, watching as the Wolf's eyes moved between them. He let go of Theon's hand, sliding his grip back to lightly rest on his forearm. "Look at him, pup. Pathetic, isn't he? Do it."

He nodded slowly. “I- okay.” He lifted the knife. 

The Wolf shrank back, pupils dilating with fear... Robb's heart was pounding. Was Theon really going to...? Theon's eyes held a sort of blank, resigned look and Ramsay was smirking at him so confidently... His everything hurt; his stomach was an aching void, his throat dry, his entire body sore, but the thought that Theon might take that knife to him cut deeper than anything Ramsay had done. Theon wouldn't, it wasn't him, but a Theon broken in by Ramsay might.

Theon lifted it bit higher, truly looking for a moment as if he might go to hurt Robb, but then he turned, hand moving down to stab the knife into Ramsay’s chest. 

Ramsay shoved his hand away and the knife went clattering across the floor. He fell back, staring at Theon like he couldn't comprehend what he had just attempted, and the sting of betrayal hurt worse than where the knife had nicked him. Blood soaked into the chest of his t-shirt, staining the white fabric. The Wolf watched them both, a little triumph in his eyes as he looked at Ramsay. 

"Pup," Ramsay breathed, staring at Theon's vaguely panicked face.

“I-I- I-“ Theon stammered, his whole body now visibly trembling. He glanced at the knife, but it was too far for him to reach, and he knew it. He swallowed hard, reaching out with shaking hands to touch where he’d nearly stabbed him. “I- I didn’t mean to...” 

Ramsay let Theon touch him for a moment, still breathing hard, and Theon's fingers were deceptively gentle around the wound. He couldn't trust his touch anymore though, and that thought was accompanied by a burst of rage. He grabbed Theon by the wrist and flung him away from him, crashing hard to the floor, and he grabbed the length of the chain and wrapped it tight around his wrists and bound him to the table to watch. 

"Fucker!" he swore, wanting to strike him so desperately, spread the bruises that already covered one side of his face from the last disappointment, and he couldn't stop himself this time. He lashed out, his fist catching Theon on his bruised cheek, and again and then again in his gut until Theon was coughing raggedly. He spun and grabbed the knife off the floor, contemplating Theon for a moment before taking it instead to Robb. 

"Should I just do it for you, then?" he snapped. "Cut up this perfect face that you love so much?"

“N-no- no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Theon choked out, struggling to sight up, gasping to catch his breath. Tears were streaming down his cheeks now, his bruise already flushing a darker color. “Rams, please, I- I’ll be better- I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” 

"You keep saying that, pup! But you never do! I keep trusting you and I keep fucking getting hurt!" He plunged the knife tip into the Wolf's spread arm, parting the flesh like butter as he cut slowly down. He didn't care about leaving scars, now. Theon had proven again and again that he wasn't truly his. He never would be again, so his leverage was useless. His planned game was moot; Theon wasn't going to destroy the Wolf.

“No!” Theon exclaimed, scooting over closer to Ramsay, leaning down to rest his head in his lap, to nuzzle his face against his crotch. “I-I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, please...” 

He was a fool to do it, he knew, but he loved him so much he was stupid, and he reached down to touch Theon's hair. "You want to be good but the Wolf is poison, isn't he?" he murmured, wanting to convince himself of it. "Go on then, pup." He unzipped his pants, pulling himself free of his boxers and jeans. "If I feel any teeth, the Wolf gets neutered."

***

Theon tensed, swallowed hard, but then nodded. He opened his mouth, tentatively licking a stripe over the head of Ramsay’s cock, dipping his tongue into the slit. His cheeks burned with shame, gut twisting with guilt and disgust, but it was better than Robb getting hurt. 

Ramsay shifted his hips, sitting more comfortably. The Wolf was staring at them with those round blue eyes and Ramsay really wanted to cut them out of its skull, but he refrained. Let it watch. He pulled the knife from his arm and let the blood run freely, and brought the point to his cheek instead. He traced the tip of the blade over the freckles, but didn't press to break the skin.

Theon wrapped his lips around the head of Ramsay’s cock, noting how bad it tasted when he didn’t want it. And he didn’t. Not at all, not one bit, but he was sucking it anyway, taking it deeper into his mouth, inch by inch. 

"Good pup," he whispered, letting the knife drag across the Wolf's skin. Still no blood was drawn; he was merely following the lines of freckles, making the patterns he encouraged Theon to cut.

Theon pulled off for a moment, allowing himself to take a deep breath, then promptly moved back to take all of Ramsay’s cock into his mouth at once. His nose pressed into dark curls of pubic hair and his throat convulsed around the intrusion. 

Ramsay groaned softly, tightening his grip on the knife as he bucked his hips up. The Wolf whimpered, either disgusted or horrified, but Ramsay didn't care which. Either was amusing to him. 

"I'll make him mine," he told it, watching the Wolf shake its head.

"No," it rasped, voice so scratchy and hoarse from dehydration. It was a wonder it was even sitting up, or able to cry out as Ramsay nudged the knife tip into the flesh of its cheek, below the line of freckles, to cut a slow line down to its jaw.

Theon gagged as his cock pressed further into his throat and pulled off, coughing and wiping drool off his chin. His eyes were wet with tears, but he quickly went to take it in his mouth once again, not wanting Ramsay to hurt Robb more. 

Ramsay watched the blood run down the Wolf's cheek, thick and coppery in scent. The pleasure of drawing his cries, drawing blood, and the wet heat of Theon's mouth around his cock had arousal hot in his belly, and he ran the fingers of his free hand through Theon's hair. 

"Stop touching him," the Wolf hissed. Ramsay dug the knife tip in deeper, not deep enough to damage muscle but enough to draw another sharp whine from him.

Upon hearing the pained sound, Theon began to work harder, doing his best to distract Ramsay from hurting Robb. He bobbed his head up and down, tears streaming from his eyes and drool from the corners of his mouth, gagging and swallowing and trying not to choke around him. 

"That's it, pup," Ramsay praised, guiding him to move faster. "You're bad, but you want to be good deep down, don't you?" 

The Wolf yanked its chains and Ramsay pulled the knife away from its face, turning it instead to its bare chest.

Theon instantly yanked his head up, looking up Robb with wide eyes. No. No, he mouthed, stop it. He was doing this to stop Ramsay from hurting Robb, and Robb was doing things that would only set him off. He shook his head subtly before ducking back down and resuming his task. 

The Wolf tipped its head back and fell still, tears in its eyes, and Ramsay started to laugh. "Oh look, it cries! Don't cry too much, Wolf, I'm not giving you more water!"

The guilt worsened, and Theon shut his eyes tight to stop too many more tears from falling. He was betraying Robb, his love, sucking another man in front of him. No wonder if Robb hated him now. 

Ramsay teased the knife around the Wolf's nipple but didn't cut, too wrapped up in the pleasure Theon was giving him. He made small lines, meaningless little cuts that would bleed freely and scar thin, just for the sake of hearing the Wolf whimper and seeing the blood paint his chest.

On a particularly hard jerk of Ramsay’s hips, Theon choked and gagged violently, pulling off to cough and catch his breath, eyes opening. They were partly bloodshot, but he quickly again resumed sucking. 

Ramsay swiped his hand through the blood on the Wolf's cheek, coating his fingers in it, and licked one clean. He pulled Theon off his cock, pressing his bloodied fingers to his lips, and made him suck them clean. 

"That's your Wolf," he purred, cock twitching at the sight of Theon's tongue on his fingers.

Theon gagged on it, nearly threw up at the taste, but he cleaned off the blood and waited for Ramsay to remove his fingers, looking up at him with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. 

"Let's try something else, hm pup?" He turned Theon around, pressing his face against the Wolf's bloody chest and tugging his underwear down. "I know you miss the Wolf breeding you, don't you? I can do you better."

“You- you what? You- Rams? What are you doing?” The pitch of his voice grew higher, but he was too scared to try and pull away as his bare ass and limp cock were exposed to Ramsay. 

Robb was shaking, desperate to wrap his arms around Theon and hug and kiss him, tell him it would be okay and tell him how much he loved him, but he didn't dare make Bolton angry when he was touching Theon. He couldn't move his arms more than a couple of inches, and it hurt to breathe, let alone speak. 

Ramsay spread Theon open, licking his hole and plunging his tongue past the ring of muscle inside of him.

Theon cried out loudly. He loved being eaten out- by Robb, only Robb, not Ramsay- but it felt good. Horribly, disgustingly good, and his cock twitched and began to harden between his legs. He whimpered, face hidden against Robb’s bloodied chest, shame causing him to flush dark red. 

Ramsay grinned against him, licking at him, feeling Theon quiver under his ministrations. He didn't see the way Theon huddled against the Wolf for comfort, only the look of fiery loathing in its blue eyes as it watched him. Theon was good, always felt good around him whether it was his fingers or tongue or cock. He moaned so prettily, his perfect pet, and he rewarded him with another long stroke of his tongue as he reached down to stroke Theon's hardening cock as well.

He squealed, squirmed, like a virgin girl being touched for the first time. It felt so good, pleasure rushing through his body, but the guilt and disgust kept his tears running down his cheeks. He nuzzled his face against Robb’s chest, softly kissing the bloody skin where Ramsay couldn’t see. Sorry, he wanted to say, he wanted to tell him he didn’t want it, he didn’t mean to get hard. 

Ramsay pushed his fingers against Theon's hole, slipping one in with his tongue. He was going to make Theon cum on the Wolf's chest, calling his name. In two days they would leave and he would be his, all his, for forever.

“Nu- no- Rams-“ Theon whimpered, hands curling into fists. It felt so good, sweet pleasure, but he also felt as if he might puke. He didn’t want Ramsay, he didn’t. He wanted Robb- his Robb, his perfect Robb. He wanted to cuddle him and hold him and bring him home. Instead, he had his blood smearing on his face as Ramsay assaulted him gently with his tongue and fingers. 

Ramsay added another finger, stretching him and searching for his prostate. It had been long enough since he'd had Theon, and he didn't want to tear him. Even if Theon had tried to stab him. He was trying to control himself, show him that he wasn't going to hurt him anymore. Not like he had. He wanted to give him pleasure, and right now he had Theon moaning under his lips and fingers.

Theon cried out loudly when Ramsay’s fingers found his prostate, poking and prodding and making him squirm. He lost balance, head landing in Robb’s lap when his arms could no longer hold himself up. The new position caused his ass to stick further up in the air. 

"How's it feel, pup?" Ramsay asked, pulling away from him so he could slip in a third finger. Theon's hole was slick and wet, almost ready for him. The Wolf was glaring at him, and Ramsay smirked back.

He moaned, shameful, the fabric of Robb’s boxers muffling the sounds as Ramsay’s fingers twisted and scissored, pressing and stroking at his prostate. He squirmed, wanting more than anything to run away, but he couldn’t. His cock was aching, beginning to leak all over Ramsay’s fist, but he didn’t want to get off. Not from Ramsay’s hands. 

"Think you're ready, pup?" Ramsay thought he was. He spat into his palm and stroked himself, slicking himself up adequately before he sat forward, grabbing Theon by the hips and pushing into him. The Wolf, enraged as ever, yanked the chains again. 

"Stop it!" it snarled. Ramsay snatched the knife up off the ground and sank the tip into his sternum, letting the blood drip down his chest.

"Shut up," he spat back, "or it gets worse for you."

Theon cried out as Ramsay shoved in all the way- even wet and prepared, it was too much, too fast. He didn’t want it, he didn’t, and he began crying harder. He had to take it. He had to, or Ramsay would hurt Robb worse. He’d already threatened to neuter him... his crying turned into soft sobs as Ramsay began thrusting steadily. 

Ramsay ran one hand down Theon's backside, grabbing at the soft flesh of his ass as he fucked him. The Wolf said nothing, because of course he couldn't, but Ramsay didn't pull the knife free. He dragged it down instead, letting the blood drip down and watching some spatter over Theon's hair, and he groaned salaciously at the sight.

It was hell, it was horrible and sickening and yet Theon’s cock was dripping all over Ramsay’s hand and the floor. He sobbed into Robb’s lap, tears and snot soaking into his boxers, his wails loud enough to be heard even when muffled. 

Ramsay wasn't having any part of that. He pulled Theon up and flipped him over so his back fell against the Wolf's chest, blood slicking over his skin. Like this, he could kiss him and swallow down his cries, and the Wolf was stuck watching Ramsay and not Theon.

The new angle had Ramsay plowing into his prostate, and soon Theon’s vision was going white as he came, sobbing impossibly louder as he did, face a dark, dark red. He was horrible. Disgusting. He didn’t deserve Robb, he never had. 

Ramsay groaned as Theon tightened around him, managing several more brutal thrusts before he spilled inside him. "You're a good pup," he murmured, swiping his fingers through the semen on Theon's belly and drawing his name. "Isn't he, Wolf? So good for me." The Wolf didn't answer, of course; speaking seemed to strain it lately, and Ramsay wasn't entirely sure if that was due to dehydration or if it had suffered damage to its throat with the chain so tight around it.

***

“I-I w-wanna go to- to sleep. Wanna go to b-bed.” Theon hiccuped, eyes shut, turning his head to try and hide his face. 

Ramsay tugged his underwear and pants back up and scooped him into his arms. "I'll be back, Wolf," he promised, and the Wolf just stared back at him with hatred in its eyes. "Come on, pet, I'll take you to bed."

Theon was glad to be carried, because he thought if he had to walk, his legs may have given out beneath him. When he was set down on the cot, he immediately turned away from Ramsay, curling in on himself under the sheets. He felt filthy and horrible, and cried until he finally fell asleep.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uploaded this to the first story on accident. Rip. Huge shoutout to vagrantwriter for pointing it out

Damon’s stomach was in knots, his little kitten clutched snugly to his chest. He was going to see Ramsay first, then... if he wasn’t able to talk sense into him... Skinner would come. They’d say their goodbyes. But Damon hoped, even prayed, that Ramsay would listen to him. That it wouldn’t come to them splitting apart for the first time in their lives. Even in prison, they were thick as thieves... and leaving Westeros without Ramsay meant potentially never seeing him again. Especially with the way things were going. Damon couldn’t risk himself, his kitten, or Skinner. 

He knocked on the door, entering without a response, walking over to join Ramsay on the bed after shutting the door behind him. 

“Hey.” He said, voice softer than it ever normally was. “Rams.” 

"Damon?" Ramsay looked at him in surprise. Damon was giving him a weird look, more guarded than usual. "What's the matter?"

“This... it needs to stop. All of this.” He gently moved Stepphie down to his lap, gently petting her. “We- you-“ He sighed. “You won’t make it out of this happy. Or alive, or free, even.” 

"Yes, I will. I have it planned out, Damon. We'll all be fine." He reached over and patted Stepphie too. "We're leaving soon, it'll be fine. It's going to work."

“There’s already one part of your plan that isn’t working.” He looked away. “Skinner and I, we aren’t waiting. Whether or not you agree, we’re going tonight. Going home.” 

"Wha— You are?" Something broke in Ramsay's expression. His best friends, both of them, were abandoning him? "It's only a couple of days, just wait!"

“We can’t risk it. We can’t. Me and him, Rams, we- were happy together. We are. We feel happy and safe together. I’m not risking that. We have a son, Ramsay. We have little Stepphie.” Upon hearing her name, the little kitten meowed. “Theon doesn’t love you. I’m sorry Rams. He doesn’t and he never will, not properly, and you know that. You know.” 

"But he did before!" Ramsay protested, face twisting. "He did, and if he doesn't now it's because of the Wolf. It's all him, once I get rid of him Theon will be mine again, like he should be. Like he used to be."

“He loved your attention, and then he hated you. He’s scared of you. Do you really think that there’s no one looking for him? That there aren’t people there who’d recognize either of your faces?” Damon was growing louder, more frustrated. “You’re going to get caught! Or die! If you get caught, you’ll get the death penalty this time.” 

"Damon, I..." Ramsay looked stricken. "I don't think I can live without him. I don't think I could bear losing him again. It was a game before, but I fucked up. It was never a game, it was real, and I loved him. I love him."

“He doesn’t love you, Ramsay! Your family loves you! We are your fucking family!” His voice cracked as he spoke, and he let it soften, get quieter. “We’re the ones who love you.” 

"I don't want to lose you either." His voice cracked pitifully and he pulled a face, ashamed but unable to keep it in. "I can't. Damon, I can't. Please don't leave. Just... Wait. We're leaving soon. Really soon."

“I can’t. We can’t risk it, Rams.” He reached out, taking one of Ramsay’s hands in his own, squeezing it gently. “We can’t. You can leave him, Rams, you can. You can come with us. I swear, you can live without him. You can learn to love properly, you can move on. At the farm. With us.” 

"I can't. Not yet, not without him. You get it, Damon, don't you? You love Skinner. You couldn't leave him. I can't leave Theon. I can't, I really can't do it." He held tight to Damon's hand, as though he would slip away the moment he let go. His best friend of eleven years, the first person he'd ever truly loved in any sort of way. He couldn't lose him, either.

“I’m leaving because I love Skinner, and Stepphie. I want you to leave because we know you won’t make it. As long as Theon’s with you, you aren’t safe. You won’t be happy, not truly. You know it, Rams. You know I’m right. Please.” He looked at him, letting Ramsay see him vulnerable and open like he so rarely ever was. “Please, come home with us.” 

"I will," he said, but his face set stubbornly. "In two days. If you have to leave, wait for us at Mole's Town. Okay?"

Damon seemed to break a little at that. “I- let me go get Skinner. I think this may- we feel this might be the last time we see you, if you refuse to change your plans.” He let go of Ramsay’s hand, standing up with Stepphie on his arm, and left the room. He returned not much later with Skinner. 

"Rams," he said at once. "You have to come. Please. It's not safe."

"I'll be fine. It's two more days."

"Why can't we just leave now?" Skinner put up an angry facade, but he didn't think he had ever felt so vulnerable before in his life, except when Damon was arrested.

"He's not ready yet," Ramsay reasoned. The journey might aggravate his fading illness; though the fever had broken, he still showed signs of fatigue and a lack of appetite.

“Leave him, Ramsay! There’s- people will already be looking for us, and for him. If you and him are seen... there’s no way. There’s just no way both of you can make it. And Theon won’t... he has more than just Robb. Killing him won’t make him love you. He won’t love you. It’s not love, Rams.” Damon was desperate. He couldn’t lose his best friend, he couldn’t, and yet... “Please. Give up on Theon. It’s too late for you and him, why can’t you see that?” 

"I can't," Ramsay repeated. 

"You can," Skinner said insistently. "He doesn't matter anymore, Rams. You can let him free and we'll leave, go home."

"No, you don't— All I've wanted for three years is to go home. Not to the farm, I mean home, Westeros. With him. I can't just... Give up. He did once, he will again."

“It’s not home, Ramsay!” Damon snapped. “Your dad’s fucking house? He never loved you, he didn’t fucking care for you, we do! Theon doesn’t love you! Theon doesn’t care for you like we do! Are you blind?” 

Ramsay opened his mouth to retort, angry and hurt, but Skinner beat him to it. 

"Ramsay. There's nothing for you here. He doesn't love you. He will never love you, not again. You fucked that up, and I know it sucks. I know if hurts, but you need to stop. You're chasing after something, risking everything for something you're never gonna get again, not from him. You need to give up, and come home with us."

"Get out," Ramsay said quietly. "Fuck off and leave, if that's what you want. I'll see you in Essos when I'm done here."

The sound Damon made was one that no one ever really heard, akin to a sob, and he turned away from the both of them while clutching his kitten to his chest. They just wanted to be safe, him and Skinner, to be happy. To be able to stick together. They just wanted Ramsay to come with them, to give up his impossible plan and take the safe way out. To settle down with them on their little farm with the girls. He wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t, he never did, but there was a thick lump in his throat and he was blinking rapidly as he tried to swallow it down. Stephanie rubbed her head against him, trying to soothe him, noticing how upset he was. 

“What about your girls? At least tell me you care about your girls. Do it for them, at least.” Damon pleaded without turning around, voice cracking. 

Ramsay looked up sharply. His face was twisted with emotion, staring at the back of Damon's head. "I love them," he said in a shaky voice. "Of course I do. I love them, my perfect girls, but... Two days. That's all I need. Nothing is going to happen in two days. Just stay, please, we'll all go home together. Please, Damon. Skinner." 

But Skinner was shaking his head, not meeting Ramsay's eyes. He couldn't believe this, this couldn't be happening. He had already lost Helicent, had lost Theon, and he couldn't lose Damon and Skinner too. He could never get Heli back, no matter how deep the ache of missing her cut, and he could work on getting Theon back but that would take a lot. He knew it would. Damon and Skinner, his oldest and best friends, he hadn't lost them yet. He had to keep them here, with him.

“I can’t- with Theon, you won’t make it out of Westeros. You won’t. We’re leaving today, you can’t change that.” He turned back around after a few moments of silence, eyes wet but his cheeks dry. “We won’t be able to make it to your execution or your funeral.” 

Ramsay stared at him, then at Skinner, and back at Damon. He was really so sure that he was going to die? "Why would you...? I'm not going to die."

“You will. If you keep this up? You will. You can’t make it out of Westeros with Theon. You can’t.” 

"It won't be any harder than getting out the first time, or getting back in. I'll... knock him out, if I have to. And Stark dies before we leave."

“Fine. Write your will before you leave. Leave your worldly possessions to the man you love so much.” Damon snapped. 

"Why do I have to choose?" Ramsay spat back, standing up.

"What, choose to live or die?" Skinner asked, pain and annoyance on his face. 

"Choose between you or him! I can't have him and my best friends, huh?"

“Because you’ll die!” Damon shouted, startling Stephanie. He felt bad, setting her down so she could roam. “You’ll die, Ramsay! You’re digging your fucking grave right now!” 

"I'm not going to fucking die, Damon! Stop saying that!" The certainty Damon was saying it was unnerving him, little as he'd like to admit it. "I'd have to get caught to get killed, and I'm not getting caught! Nobody knows where we are, or that we own this place! How would we get caught?"

“Everyone knows your face! Everyone knows Theon’s! You fucking idiot!” Damon wanted to punch him, but instead he felt tears starting to drip from the corners of his eyes. 

"We made it here just fine!" 

"Ramsay, please!" Skinner grabbed him, and Ramsay shoved him back. "Leave him, just come with us. We all want to go home."

"I- I can't," he said, trying to move past them, towards the door. Skinner blocked him. "Fuck off, Skinner, I need to— I can't leave him."

“He doesn’t care about you! We do! We fucking do!” Damon stomped his foot like an angry toddler, face a furious shade of red, cheeks wet and glistening. 

"So don't leave me," Ramsay spat petulantly. 

"It doesn't work like that, Rams," Skinner said. 

"If you care so much, why not just stay? Two more days? Hells, we'll leave tomorrow if that makes you stay. Anything. I just can't... I can't leave without him."

“He doesn’t! Fucking! Want you!” Damon shouted, finally storming up to him, grabbing his face in his hands. Forcing Ramsay to look at him, to see the tears as they clung to and fell from his lashes. “Why don’t you get it? Why is your skull so thick that you can’t understand? Your heart so fucking cold that you don’t care? When did a fucker who doesn’t love you become more important than your family?” 

Ramsay swallowed back his guilt and tried to blink away the moisture in his own eyes to no avail; a drop clung to his eyelashes and slipped down his cheek. "He's not, Damon, he could never be, I just... I just want to be happy. That's all I want."

“You won’t be happy. You’ll be dead.” Damon snapped, letting go and stepping back. 

"I'm not going to die! Stop saying that!" Ramsay turned away to wipe his eyes, seething. "Just fucking leave, if you want to so bad."

“Please, Rams. Please.” Damon’s voice dropped suddenly, quiet and pleading, cracking on almost every word. 

"I'm sorry." It was quiet, but he had never meant the words more in his life. "I'm sorry, I..." 

"Don't do this, Rams," Skinner pleaded. Ramsay merely shook his head.

“He won’t listen.” Damon sighed shakily. “I’ll tell the girls you love them. I’ll tell them that daddy didn’t want to leave them. I’ll make sure they know.” His voice was weaker than he’d heard it in forever. “I’ll try to send you flowers, even if you won’t be able to smell them. You’re my best friend, Rams. Remember that.” 

"Come on, Damon," Skinner murmured, taking him by the arm. "I'll miss you, Rams. Stay safe, okay?" He cast one last mournful glance at Ramsay, still facing away from them with his shoulders quivering silently, and tugged Damon from the room.

“I love you, Rams.” Damon managed before the door shut behind them. He let Skinner lead him to their room, and then let himself fall into his arms with a soft sob. 

"He'll be okay," Skinner said, rubbing his back. He hadn't seen Damon cry in years, not since the hunt when they lost a dog, Damon's old favorite. "He can take care of himself, Damon."

“He won’t. He won’t be.” Damon shook his head, pressing his face to his chest. 

"Damon, you could be convincing yourself of the worst. It can all turn out okay, you know? He's being an idiot, but he's not too reckless. Not anymore."

“I’m right! You know I am! You agreed with me before!” Damon pulled abruptly back, and Stepphie- who’d followed them back to their room- pawed at his shin. 

"I'm trying to be optimistic, Damon." Skinner turned and pulled their few bags from under the bed. "Not much to pack, but you have your clothes together, right?"

“Yes. They’re all folded and set to go, I just have to move them into the bag, as you would know if you literally just glanced at the fucking bed.” Damon’s voice suddenly turned cold and he didn’t look at Skinner, staring down instead at the kitten by his feet. 

"Don't fucking snap at me, or you can go back your damn self and say goodbye to the both of us," Skinner spat. He glared at Damon for a moment before turning on his heel and stomping across the room to yank the curtains closed on the dingy little window.

Damon looked up at him in shock, feeling as if a spike had just been driven into his already aching chest. He wanted to say fine. To say fuck it, fuck him, he would go alone, and to have fun six feet underground. He hated the way it was all making him feel, the lump in his throat and tears in his eyes even as he narrowed his eyes into a glare. He scooped up Stepphie into his arms. 

“Fine. Be an absent father, just like your own was.” He spat, the anger in his voice wavering, the misery he felt all too obvious. 

Skinner looked back at him, scowling. "Like you're one to talk. Your parents never looked twice at you. At least my mother fed me, you fucking asshole."

Damon put Stepphie down on the bed, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “She may as well not have, because you’ll die anyway if you stay here, you selfish prick!” He moved to open one of the bags, throwing his own clothes in, not caring to keep it neat. “Stay here, fine, see if I fucking care. Maybe Ramsay will even let you fuck his pet. I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Skinner shoved him hard; Damon stumbled backwards and fell, and Skinner glowered down at him. "I'm the selfish one? You won't even stick around to make sure your best fucking friend is safe. But, fine! Leave by yourself, see if you make it. I will."

Damon was momentarily shocked, but pulled himself back onto his feet. “You wanted to leave too!” He shouted, lower lip trembling. Skinner had really just fucking knocked him onto the floor- Skinner, who’d not touched him harshly in... well, Damon couldn’t remember the last time they’d physically fought. “Fine! I’m going. I’m going, and I’m- I’m taking Stephanie, and you can enjoy your fucking suicide mission of staying here.” Despite everything the both of them had done, everything Damon had seen Skinner do, he still couldn’t believe Skinner would hurt him on purpose. 

"You think your chances are so much better? You, with a bounty on your head?" Skinner sneered. "Maybe we'll both fucking die, then— wouldn't that be nice? The three of us can all be together forever!" He threw his own bag at Damon's chest. He wanted to leave, but travelling with Damon acting like this would be an absolute nightmare. Plus, he was too worried about Ramsay now to just leave him, after all Damon's talk of him dying. "Fucking go! I'll see you in two days... If I don't die," he drawled,

“I’ll see you in fucking hell.” He snapped, throwing Skinner’s bag back at him. “and you can carry your own fucking bag there!” He grabbed his own bag, just a backpack with the little amount of clothes he had crammed in it, along with a little bag of food and a bottle of water for Stepphie. His wallet was in his pocket, with a decent enough amount of money. He picked up their kitten, who looked confused, butting her head against him, and then looked back at Skinner. He opened his mouth to speak but decided against it, and instead turned and stormed out of the room. 

Skinner glared after him, throwing his bag back to the floor. "Asshole!" he spat, heading out of the room after him. Despite himself, he glanced sideways down the hall, but Damon was already gone. A flicker of guilt sputtered and died in his chest. Damon started it, after all, even if he had escalated it. 

He found himself walking back to Ramsay's room. He was still where they had left him, now sitting on his bed, and he looked up as Skinner entered. 

"I thought you were leaving," he said sourly. 

"I'm not. Damon's gone, though." 

"Oh." Ramsay looked down. Skinner sat beside him, the guilt flaring back to life. 

"I won't let you get caught, Rams. Don't worry about that. No death penalty while I'm around, okay?"

"Thanks, Skinner," he said wryly. Skinner forced a grin. 

"I'm here for you. I know what it's like, anyways. Loving difficult people. We'll get there, though. We'll get your Theon home with us."

"Yeah." Ramsay's face lit up somewhat, and Skinner wasn't much for hugging, but he wrapped an arm around Ramsay's shoulders and pulled him close. 

"I won't leave you. No matter what happens, you'll have me."


	27. Chapter 27

The car ride to Eyrie was excruciating for all of them. Rickon whined endlessly about how he was nine years old and should be able to stay home on his own, and Arya snapped back that since nobody else could, he certainly wouldn't. Their mother patiently explained again and again that she was sorry, that she needed some time to work, and that Aunt Lysa had agreed to watch them all if Sansa and Arya agreed to help with Robin, who was recovering from his latest illness. Otherwise, Sansa thought sourly, she would have been allowed to stay home. She was nineteen, after all, and more than capable of looking after herself. But she knew her mother was stretched thin and needed the time to focus. Sansa hoped and hoped that Lieutenant Brienne was making progress, and that all her and Yara's tentative ideas could be discarded. With every mile they drove, she was less sure that she would be able to go through with it, if it did come to it.

Sansa had been to Eyrie numerous times, and every time she was reminded of just how fitting the name was. It was weirdly foggy, and the town was set higher in the mountains so it was cold as well. The buildings they passed were all dilapidated and frankly depressing, though as they moved into the business district they looked a little cleaner. Aunt Lysa lived near the edge of town in a house fancier than all the others around, set on top of a steep hill with massive fencing circling the property. Sansa hated it.

To her surprise, Aunt Lysa was tolerable when they arrived, and Sansa was able to head straight off to the room she would be sharing with Arya. Rickon had set off to find Robin, keen on playing, and Bran was settling into a room on the first floor. The wolfdogs had all stayed outside, much to Sansa's dismay; Aunt Lysa thought Robin had developed allergies, a fact she had neglected to inform them of before they made the three-hour trip up with the dogs. Arya was already making plans to sneak them inside when Aunt Lysa went to bed. Sansa was just desperate to get out of the house already, and she seized her chance within the hour.

"Sansa, dear, could you run to the grocery store? You can take my car, the drive is very safe." Before Aunt Lysa had even finished her request, she was pressing a shopping list and blank check into Sansa's hands.

"Sure," Sansa said, but on the inside she was gleeful. If she was lucky, she could sneak away for an hour or two and snoop around town for any sign of them. She didn't hold out much hope, because what were the chances of them being here, really?

Still, as her car rumbled along to the grocery store, she let her eyes wander, searching for possible residences of a group of homicidal fugitives. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, though that didn't really prove much one way or the other, and made it to the store with little occurrence. She even made it mostly through Aunt Lysa's list before anything happened.

In the refrigerated aisle, there were two men walking, the shorter of the two busy pushing the cart. The taller one, dark hair and dark eyes, was talking in a voice that was almost like listening to nails on a chalkboard. It was unpleasant, to say the least, scratchy and grating. “I’m just saying, if I have to listen to that fucker cry over his wolf for another second, I’m gonna shoot them both myself.”

In the next aisle over, Sansa stiffened, wheeling her cart closer as silently as possible to listen. Another voice was saying now, much quieter and cautiously, "Rams would kill you. Just stay out of the basement and you won't have to listen to it."

“He wouldn’t kill me. He’d just finally come to his damn senses and let us get the hell outta here. He can find a new fucking pup that doesn’t have a family of wolves in love with it. One that doesn’t cry so fucking much.” The man with the grating voice said.

Theon. They were talking about Theon. Sansa edged closer, holding her breath for fear that they would hear her.

"He doesn't want a different one," drawled the second voice. "If he cared that little about him, we wouldn't have had to come back to get him. Besides, there's Stark too. Rams is planning on killing him when we leave tomorrow, and the kid'll break afterwards. It'll be like it was before."

Robb, they were going to kill Robb... Sansa's breath hitched in her chest and she almost panicked right then and there. They were leaving tomorrow. She had to find their hideout, had to call the police...

The police, however, were completely useless. They didn’t believe her, stating that Ramsay Bolton had last been spotted in Essos. She tried to tell them that the cops in Winterfell had evidence of him being in Westeros, but they didn’t listen. Apparently, they were trying to corral a rabid raccoon in the parking lot of some hardware store.

She hung up in frustration, and by now the two of them were moving past her aisle. She spun hurriedly and pretended to be looking at something on the lower shelf, and once they had passed she threw her hood up to cover her hair and pushed the cart up to the front of the store to checkout. They were browsing the produce section, the blond one with piercings picking out several green apples and a bag of grapes, while the black-haired one watched and scowled.

Bags in hand, Sansa sat on a bench by the exit and held her phone in front of her, pretending to be immersed in something while she watched them move to the self-checkout lanes. They paid cash and crammed their purchases into one bag. Sansa recalled that they were leaving tomorrow, and she figured these were snacks for their trip. The trip that her brother was planned to die on. She grit her teeth and glared at them as they passed her, oblivious and still muttering to each other.

Only when they were a safe distance ahead did she get up and go out to the car, loading the groceries into the back. She could see them one row over, throwing their couple of bags into the backseat of a nondescript sedan. Sansa followed them from the parking lot and down a series of sidestreets and backroads, hanging far enough back that she hoped she evaded suspicion, until they pulled into the driveway of a ramshackle little house that looked like a modified trailer. She drove by slowly, taking in the property. There wasn't a number on the house, but she knew it was Stone Street. She could try and call the cops again, try to explain that she knew where they were now, but gods forbid she interrupt the raccoon affair. She would call them again in an hour and try again. She really wished she knew lieutenant Tarth's phone number, because dialing the police only sent her to Eyrie's useless officers, and calling her mother only sent her to voicemail. She assumed she was busy, or out of service range. For now, she could call Yara. They could handle this themselves.

She pulled to the end of the street, well out of eyesight of the little house, and pulled out her phone. When she dialed Yara, she picked up after a single ring.

“What is it, Stark?” Her voice came through the speaker, rough, and to someone who didn’t know her, it would sound angry.

"I found them. Stone Street, in Eyrie. I found them," she said in a rush, scarcely breathing. They were so close, Theon and Robb, but she didn't dare try and rescue them herself. "I tried calling the police and they're a joke, Yara, and my mom didn't answer her phone."

There was a pause, and then, “You found them? You’re serious?” There were muffled noises, as if she were moving stuff around, then the jingle of car keys. “I’ll- fuck, I’ll drive there, it should take about three hours, maybe more... give me five hours?“

"Yeah," Sansa breathed. "Of course. I'm heading back to Aunt Lysa's house now, so they don't wonder where I am. Swing by when you get here?"

“Sure. Text me the address.”

* * *

Surely enough, Yara was there in just about three hours, having sped the whole way. She parked in the back of Lysa Arryn’s driveway, jogging up to the door and throwing it open without knocking.

“Sansa?” She shouted.

Jon Arryn was seated at the table, reading the newspaper, and he looked up in surprise when Yara barged in. "She's in the den," he said, pointing her in the right direction.

Sansa was on the couch with her phone in hand, too anxious to focus on anything. When Yara walked in, she leaped up. "You're here!"

“Yea, I’m here. Now come on. We’re going to get our stupid fucking brothers.” She lifted her car keys.

"You're going where?" Arya came dashing around the corner, eyes bright and eager. Sansa looked around quickly before pulling her aside.

"I found them," she said, "but you can't come. Okay? It's not safe."

"I'm fourteen," Arya said, scowling.

"Stay here in case we're not back soon, okay? You can help better from here."

"Fine. If you're not back in—"

"Five hours."

"Five hours, I'm calling the cops."

"Call mom, the police here are..." Sansa trailed off and sighed. "Try and call mom, or something. Five hours, okay Arya?"

Yara reached out, snatching Arya’s phone out of her hands, holding it high above her head as she added herself to her contacts. Arya was bright red and glaring daggers at her by the time Yara handed her phone back, but the Greyjoy just smirked. “Call me first. Then call your mom. Got it, little Stark?”

"Yeah." Arya snatched it back and slipped away, and Sansa and Yara went back outside to Yara's car.

"What do we do when we get there?" Sansa asked anxiously.

“We get out brothers back.” Yara stated, as if it were obvious.

"But... We can't just barge in. We need to have a plan," Sansa reasoned. "Or else we might get caught."

“If we’re caught, we kill them. Easy.” She led Sansa out to her truck, climbing in.

"But we can't get caught!" Sansa buckled herself in, toying with the hem of her shirt nervously. "You have guns in here right? And knives?"

“You know it, Stark. Couple guns in the back. A knife on my hip. I can give you one, too. I have another one with its holster in the glove compartment.” She turned on the truck, and began to speed down the driveway.

"Oh! Okay!" Sansa rifled through the glove compartment and pulled it the spare holster and knife. "This is cool!" Excitement was beginning to steal over her now. "We're really going to get them back!"

Yara glanced at her, then back at the road. “Don’t be too positive. Don’t wanna jinx it.” Her hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel. She couldn’t lose another brother, her last brother, her baby brother.

"Turn here," Sansa instructed, pointing. "Then you have to go right." As they drove, she directed Yara where to go, and twenty minutes later they were pulling up outside the house. They drove slowly past the property and parked out of sight between some trees.

“What’s the plan?” Yara turned off the truck, then looked over at Sansa. “Are we going in?”

Sansa wanted to say yes, but fear held her tongue. "We should look around first," she said. "I don't want to walk in and be ambushed, you know?" She picked more anxiously at the fabric of her leggings.

“Yeah. Understood.” Yara nodded, reaching to grab a gun then shove it into its holster, placing her phone in her back pocket on the other side.

Sansa did the same, though she had never fired a gun before. She felt better with a knife on her hip, and once they were geared up they began walking towards the house. The property was heavily wooded and fairly concealed, if you weren't looking. Grudgingly, she admitted that they picked a decent hideout. Unfortunately for them, it was in the same town as her aunt... and they didn't know how to keep their mouths shut in a grocery store.

Yara went around front, while Sansa headed to the back. She scuffed through tufts of wild grass, peeking through shabby windows until she came to the backdoor. They had said that they wouldn't go inside yet, and Sansa knew deep down that she really shouldn't, but her hand fell to the knob. Theon and Robb, her brothers, were just inside. Waiting. She turned it slowly, so slowly, and the door creaked open.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Just a warning: we may have to cut down to only posting once or twice a week.

Robb didn't think he had ever been so hungry in his life. No, he knew he hadn't been. What had it been now, two weeks? Two weeks since he'd had a thing to eat, and several days since he'd had anything to drink. He didn't talk and tried not to cry out or scream when they came in to beat and rape him, but they never left him alone. It had been so long since he had seen Theon, when Bolton tried to have Theon mutilate his face. He just wanted Theon back, just wanted to go home... But nothing seemed to be looking up, and he was beginning to think he would die here.

The door opened, and he wanted to scream. Not now, he just wanted a day, or at least a couple of hours where he wasn't in pain or being humiliated. It was Luton who walked in, of course, and he was grinning like a fool.

"We're leaving tomorrow, Wolfie. Know what that means?" Luton crouched in front of him, and Robb dimly noticed he was carrying a plastic bag. "You die tomorrow, Wolfie. See this here?" He shook the bag in Robb's face. "Water. For our trip." Luton pulled a bottle from the bag and unscrewed the top, letting a few drops of water fall to the floor, just out of Robb's reach. He swallowed thickly, and Luton grinned broader.

"It's good water, too." He took a deep swig and smacked his lips, standing up. He drained the rest of the bottle. Robb was sure that Luton wasn't thirsty in the slightest, he just delighted in taunting him like this. When he had but one swallow left, he put the cap back and threw the bottle at Robb. It bounced off his forehead and rolled away across the floor, and he watched it go mournfully.

"Aw, what's the matter? Thirsty, little Wolfie?" Luton jeered. He unzipped his pants and Robb wanted to beg and cry, he couldn't do it anymore, but Luton wasn't going for his ass. He pulled his cock out but he was flaccid, and suddenly Robb knew what was going to happen a moment before it did. He screwed his eyes shut as Luton pissed, the hot fluid soaking his filthy hair and streaming over his face, and Robb wanted to vomit but there was nothing in his stomach. The acrid smell of it was making him so sick, and he was already so filthy and what more could they do to him? It was all he could do to keep the urine from streaming over his lips, even as it caught and beaded in his eyelashes and dripped down his cheeks like foul tears. He could cry, but his body couldn't spare the water.

“What’s wrong, wolf? Weren’t you thirsty?” Luton sneered, cock hardening as Robb’s hair grew damp with his piss. It was disgusting and degrading, and his arousal was becoming very obvious very fast. “Don’t you want a drink?”

He paused a second and shook his head, lips pressed tight together so the dribbles rolled past. Immediately, he wished that he hadn't moved because his head was light and fuzzy, and he thought he might pass out. He wouldn't even object if he did; whatever Luton wanted to do, if he was unconscious he couldn't feel it. But the gods were cruel and Robb's head cleared after several seconds, leaving him to sink back limply against the pole.

“Hungry?” Luton snickered as the stream slowly died down, finishing off with a few little drops of piss.

Gods, he wanted to tell him to fuck off, but he didn't dare open his mouth lest he have to taste it. At least he seemed to be done now, and it would dry soon enough. Robb shut his eyes, not wanting to even look at Luton. If he didn't look or react, he might get bored and go away.

“Don’t wanna look at me, bitch? Fine. I’ll give you something else. We’ll see how much you like that.” He jerked off, stroking his cock, uncircumcised and weirdly curved with a head that narrowed out and was smaller than the rest of it. He finished quickly, looking at Robb soaked in his piss, and added his come to the wet mess on his face.

Robb kept his eyes screwed shut, sitting as still as he could. His gut throbbed with hunger pains, and his throat was dry and spongy. Luton crinkled the bag as he put himself away, and Robb imagined the water still in there, cool and wet. If he had water, he would drink and drink until he threw up, then drink some more. If he got out of here alive, he would never go anywhere without a water bottle. Never again. He wouldn't take food or water for granted; he finally understood how Theon had felt after his few months of captivity with little food. Though, with a hint of jealousy, he knew that Theon had been given water.

Was Luton leaving? He didn't want to open his eyes to see, and instead kept them stubbornly shut.

“You’re dying tomorrow.” Luton growled, looking down at him. “You’re dying, and your precious Theon is going to be Ramsay’s pathetic little fuck pet for the rest of his lousy life.”

Robb paused, then shook his head again. Even if he died, Theon would never succumb to Ramsay again. He was stronger than that, stronger than Bolton. Robb knew that, if Bolton were to kill him, Theon would kill Bolton.

“Don’t shake your head. Your precious lover will be so distraught, and you know who will comfort him? Ramsay. He’ll cling to Ramsay when you leave him, just like he did three years ago.”

Theon wouldn't. Luton didn't know him like Robb did. Robb shook his head again, scowling, but still didn't open his eyes. He could feel the mess on his face and he wouldn't open his eyes or mouth until it was dry.

Luton growled, growing annoyed. “Listen, faggot. If you don’t open your eyes, I’ll peel off both your fucking eyelids so you have to look at me.”

Robb turned his head away, chains clinking as he moved. The one around his throat pulled and strained, half-choking him. There was little Luton could do to him now, and he liked to sneer and bluff. Let him.

“Whatever. You’re dead tomorrow. I’ll enjoy seeing your dead body. Even if Theon won’t give in to Ramsay, he won’t be able to escape him. Rams will tie him down, keep him like a bad dog in a basement. He’ll live his life in the dark. And you-“

He cut off, turning toward the open door as someone called from upstairs.

“Luton!” A gleeful voice called out. “We have a visitor!”

He gave a last filthy look at Robb. “You’re lucky, wolf. I’ve better things to do. Enjoy your last day alive.” He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

"Hey, pup. We're leaving tomorrow," Ramsay announced, bustling into Theon's room with all the eagerness of a child on Christmas. "Ready to see Essos? I'm ready to leave." He sat down on the end of Theon's cot, smiling brightly.

“Esso- Essos?” Theon whimpered, clutching his blanket to his chest. “I don’t wanna.”

"You'll like it once we get there," Ramsay assured him, even though he himself would rather stay in Westeros too. "It's not safe enough for us here."

“Robb? What about Robb?” Theon looked up at Ramsay, eyes wide.

"Hes not coming," Ramsay replied curtly. "I'll let him go, once it's safe for us." Let him go, straight on to join his father. Not that he would tell Theon that.

“Oh... okay.” Theon visibly relaxed, looking down at his lap. He’d miss Robb, but... as long as Robb was safe.

"It'll be better there," Ramsay said. He lay down beside Theon, wrapping an arm around him. "We have a farm there, with a couple of cows and all the girls are waiting... I can't wait to see them again."

“Okay.” He nodded slowly, but couldn’t bring himself to smile. “I- I like the girls. I miss my- my Queenie. But, she’ll be safe with Sansa.”

Ramsay chewed his lip in thought. It would be too much of a risk to go get her, but he did want his pup to be happy... "I'm sorry," he said finally. "If I went to get her, I would get caught."

“I know.” A pause. “You’re- you’re freeing Robb tomorrow? Promise?”

"Yes," Ramsay said, taking Theon's hand. He examined the fingers, the stub of his pinkie and the shortened ring finger. A tinge of regret lurked in his eyes, but he said nothing.

Theon nodded again. “Will you- can- can I see him? One last time, before he’s freed, and you bring me away?”

"...yes. You'll see him before we leave, just before we let him go. Then we're free." Ramsay squeezed his hand and let it fall back to the mattress.

“Okay.” Theon shifted, heart aching in his chest. “When can I see him?”

"Tomorrow, before we leave." Before he slit the Wolf's filthy throat and let his body sink into the bay. But Theon didn't have to know that, not until it happened.

He nodded for a third time before going silent. He didn’t want Ramsay. He wanted Robb, but... Robb would be free, safe. If Theon went with Ramsay, Robb was safe.

"I love you," Ramsay murmured, turning onto his side. Theon didn't move, so he merely looked at the side of his face. "Sweet pet. You're so naughty sometimes, but you're mine. Right?"

“... right.” Theon’s hands twisted in his lap, feeling Ramsay’s eyes on him. “‘M sorry I’m bad.”

"We have a while to fix that," Ramsay said, smirking at the thought of that. Having Theon all to himself, without fear of the Starks, forever.

“Yeah. A while.” His voice grew softer, quieter.

They were both silent for a moment, until Ramsay broke it. "The farm's big, and it has a big house. We'll share a room. The girls have their own room, with a swinging door to outside so they can go in and out as they please, and there's a huge yard for them. Kyra loves the cows. Ben was talking about getting horses too, when we all get back. Damon seemed excited. When we go to look at them, you can pick out whichever one you want and it'll be yours, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer. "And I found a dog rescue, too. You can get your own puppy, whichever kind you like."

It sounded nice, but... the farm wasn’t his home, and no horse or rescue dog would be able to fill the hole that the Starks and Queenie would leave in his heart. But he’d have to try and be happy. It would be his life, and as long as he went along with it... Robb would be safe. Robb and the Starks would all be safe, even if he were taken to Essos. “Thank you.” He said quietly.

"I love you, pup. I'd do... Almost anything for you." Gods forbid he say 'anything' and Theon asked to leave him. It scared Ramsay, and little scared him, but he didn't think he could bear losing Theon again. He thought a lot about how he almost had, and he hated to.

“I know.” Theon shifted again, upset, unhappy, and uncomfortable. Chained down and scared.

Ramsay took his chain in hand, fiddling with it. "If I took this off for tonight, what would you do?" He looked at Theon, his eyes somber. None of the icy chill in their depths remained, though the line of his mouth was tense.

“You know. You- you know what.” Theon finally looked up at him, the corners of his eyes practically dropping with sadness.

Ramsay didn't say anything. He didn't even sigh. He just set the chain down silently and sat up on the cot. "You don't love me anymore."

“I never have.” He said, voice trembling. “I-I’m just scared of you. I was scared.”

"You did, before. You used to tell me all the time." It was because of the Wolf, all because of the Wolf. Tomorrow that problem would be eliminated, and he could properly work at getting his Theon back. The one he had before, the one who loved him and always told him so, hugged him in the hallways and kissed and snuggled him. Ramsay had smirked at it back then, but he didn't know then. Not like he did now. He never thought he would miss that, but now he had his Theon beside him and he didn't want him anymore.

“Before you raped me the first time. I- I thought you were good. I was- I was scared and alone, and I thought you were good.”

"I can be that for you," Ramsay said at once, turning back to face him. "I can, Theon. Because I do love you. Don't be scared anymore... We don't hunt anymore."

“You still rape me. You still- you make me, you trick me, you make me watch bad things. You- you make me cry. You make me upset o-on purpose.” Theon was beginning to tear up, and looked back down at his hands in his lap.

"I—"

The door flung open wide, banging against the wall and drifting slowly back. Ramsay cringed at the sudden loud noise, but he was thankful for the interruption. Sour Alyn stood in the doorway, grinning like a fool.

"Hey, Rams. We have a surprise visitor. Come see!" He started to walk off, then paused. "Oh... Bring him," he said, nodding towards Theon. Ramsay glanced over at Theon, and he looked back with fear in his eyes.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for attempted rape and violence
> 
> It’s very likely we’re going to cut down to just posting once a week on Wednesdays, so we have time to get a jump start on the threequel. I’ll let you know for sure on Friday -m

The space behind the door yawned like a black chasm, and Sansa stepped slowly into it. She didn't dare turn the light on, and her hand fell to the knife holstered at her side. It looked like she was in a kitchen, albeit a small and dingy one. She took small steps, careful not to creak any floorboards. The hallway was narrow and even darker. 

Where were they being kept? She could barely see, feeling along the walls and sliding her feet with each step, just in case one board was a creaky one. She rounded a corner, and came face to face with a dirty looking man with a mop of brown hair and a leering grin. Her mouth opened in silent horror, and sudden terror washed over her. He reached out and touched the loose strands of her hair, fallen from its ponytail, and she cringed away from his touch.

“You’re a pretty thing.” The man sneered, giving her hair a little tug. “You look familiar, don’t you?” He paused, acting as if he was contemplating, and then... “Ah! A little wolf! Sour Alyn, come here! I caught a fuckin’ wolf!” 

"Don't touch me!" Sansa cried, backing away. His hand shot out and grabbed her ponytail, wrenching her head to one side as she struggled. Another man was coming now, his foul breath fanning over her face as he leaned in close.

"The pretty red, hm? Why don't we show her to her brother? We could have a lot of fun with you, little wolf."

“You’re a little faggot too, right?” The dirty one sneered, and the man with foul breath and poorly done piercings snickered. 

“She’ll have a tight cunt then, eh? Perfect for you, Yellow Dick. You only ever get loose leftovers.” 

Sansa's eyes widened with fear. "No, please," she whimpered, "please, let me go. I just want to see my brother, please... I just want to see that he's okay."

"Oh, he's more than okay." Yellow Dick pulled her close to him, sliding a hand down her body and groping at her breasts. She shuddered, trying to raise her hands to shove him away, but Sour Alyn caught her arms behind her. "I could fuck you good right here, you know. But I'm nice, and I'll let you see your brother."

“And we wouldn’t want to exclude anyone.” Sour Alyn snickered. “I’ll get Rams and his bitch if you go get Luton? You can bring wolf bitch.” 

He shoved her, letting her land in Yellow Dick’s arms. He tightly wrapped them around her, lifting her off the floor and carrying her down the stairs toward Robb’s room. The door was open, so he stopped halfway down as Sour Alyn pushed past him. 

“Luton!” Yellow Dick called out gleefully. “We have a visitor!” 

On the other hand, Sour Alyn was throwing open the closed door, and stood grinning in the doorway. 

"Hey, Rams. We have a surprise visitor. Come see!" He was about to walk away, but then he stopped. "Oh... Bring him,"

Sansa was carried into Robb's room and dropped onto the floor. She scrambled away, towards Robb, but Yellow Dick caught her by the wrists and rolled her onto her back, tying her wrists together. 

"Sansa," Robb rasped, staring at her desperately. She stared back, tears in her eyes. He looked so bad, with puffy new scars all over him and bags under his eyes, his face and torso gaunt. As though to remind her he was there, Yellow Dick's hands fell to her hips, feeling her up, and she wished she had worn something besides leggings. 

The door banged open again and more people trooped in. Ramsay Bolton entered, escorting Theon, and Sansa twisted her head to see him, drinking in the sight of him. He was clean, whereas Robb was filthy. He was obviously fed and hydrated, whereas Robb looked as though he hadn't eaten at all. His hand was loosely held in Ramsay's, and he stared at her like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"Theon," she sobbed, struggling under Yellow Dick's hold. Ramsay's face lit up, but the blond man just behind him merely stared at her with apprehension on his face.

“Sansa...” Theon whispered. He glanced back at Ramsay and then bolted toward her, only to be yanked back. He already looked ready to cry, and tried to run for Robb instead- which he also failed to accomplish. Then he looked at Rams. “You- you’ll let them go, right? Let them go? M-make Yellow Dick stop, please, Rams, please don’t let him touch her!”

Yellow Dick, however, couldn’t care less for Theon’s pleas, and continued feeling Sansa up. A hand landed on her ass, squeezing, and he laughed as Sour Alyn knelt down and joined him, tugging at her hair. 

Part of Ramsay wanted to cater to Theon, have them merely restrain the wolf girl until they left in the morning, but a deeper part of him wanted blood. He remembered Theon's words, and Damon's, and bitterness made his judgement. He pulled Theon over to the Wolf, wrapping his chain to the pole so all he could do was sit and watch. He couldn't even bring himself to care much beyond the burning jealousy when Theon and the Wolf immediately pressed against each other for comfort. Tomorrow morning, none of this would matter. He would be home, and Theon would be his forever. 

"Get off of me, please!" Sansa begged, writhing under their hands. 

"Do whatever you want with her," Ramsay ordered, retreating to lean against the wall. Skinner moved beside him, still donning that annoying apprehensive expression. Ramsay was sure he was having second thoughts about not leaving with Damon, and he was bitter to him as well, but still. Skinner had chosen him, chosen to stay. Luton crept towards the party on the floor, an evil leer on his face.

Theon leaned against Robb, wishing he could hold him, comfort him- but Sansa was in danger. And they couldn’t do a thing to help. 

“Gonna fuck your cunt, wolf bitch. Does the curtain match the drapes? Are you nice and red down there too?” Yellow Dick snarled, reaching to pull down her leggings. 

His hands were hot and heavy on her hips, pulling her leggings down with her panties, and Sansa shrieked, kicking out. She flailed and Yellow Dick grabbed at her thighs, trying to spread her legs while she sobbed and fought to keep them together. They struggled for a moment, Robb and Theon shouting all the while in the fuzzy background of her frantic conscious, and her shoulder banged off the leg of the table. It rattled and several loose objects fell down upon their heads. Sansa groped out blindly with her tied hands, grabbing the nearest object and swinging it at Yellow Dick's face. 

The blade of the knife plunged through his throat and panicked yells burst out all around the little room. She yanked the knife free and blood poured over her fingers, pumping thick from the severed veins and arteries. She wriggled away, tears streaming down her cheeks, crawling desperately towards her brothers. Yellow Dick fell heavily to the floor behind her and rolled onto his back. 

Yellow Dick's breath gurgled in the torn hole of his throat, his thick fingers grasping at the wound as though he could pull the flesh back together. Luton swore in a strangely high-pitched voice and fled, Sour Alyn hot on his heels, and the door didn't shut behind them but Ramsay wasn't focusing on that. His gaze was on his friend, slowly dying on the floor, blood pooling around his feet. His gaze was on Theon, his Theon, who he had to save and get the hells out of here. 

Sansa was squirming away from Yellow Dick, having already dropped the knife, and Ramsay eyed it with a need to grab it up and slit her whore throat, mix her blood with his friend's and let her gasp and cry as she died, but Theon was more important. He lunged towards him, reaching for the chain looped around the Wolf's pole. That's it, pull it free and they were golden, free to go... He never saw it coming, never saw Theon's and the Wolf's eyes fixed on something behind his back, or the grin on Sansa's face as she saw it too. He never saw her coming. 

Yara Greyjoy plunged a knife into his back, long blade sinking deep, deeper...

It _hurt_ , gods it hurt so bad. He cried out as the knife sank to the hilt, his own blood running hot down his back. He sank to his knees and fell to the floor, feeling his blood pool out around him. Behind him, Yara pulled the knife free and plunged it in again. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes, fixed on Theon. Theon, his Theon, sweet pup, perfect pup. His hand went from the wound on his side to stretch out towards Theon, bloody fingers splayed, reaching. Sansa and the Wolf both stared at him in utter revulsion, the girl's face holding a sort of quiet triumph. His Theon's eyes, so bright and clear, that beautiful sea-green, held horror and something Ramsay hoped was grief. He would save him, his beautiful pet, he would, he had to...

"Theon," he choked, blood at his lips. "Th-Theon, please. Pl-please... I don't... want to die... Please d-don't let me die..."

The other boys were running, desperately climbing up the stairs, but Theon’s focus was all on Ramsay. Bleeding, dying- and even with everything Ramsay had done, Theon felt no relief. He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t, and he reached out and grabbed Ramsay’s hand in his own. And then he was talking, the words falling from his lips before he could even thing about them, all coming out in such a hurry. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Tears were now welling in his eyes. “I’m sorry no one loved you prop-properly, no one t-taught you how to love. I’m sorry you grew up lonely. I- I’m sorry I couldn’t love you. I’m sorry you didn’t know how to love. You- you could’ve been good, Rams.” He squeezed his hand, staring at his face, at the hurt and the fear... “You could’ve. Everything- this- your life could have been so different. You could’ve fell in love, for- for real. I- I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re- you’re wicked, evil, and- and I still could never hate you. After everything...” Fat tears were streaming down his cheeks. “I should. I- I should hate you for all you did to me. I started to hate you for what you did to Robb. You can’t- you can’t force someone to love you. I’m sorry you never got to be happy, Rams, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

"Rot," spat the girl behind him, twisting the knife in as deep as it could go. 

"Ramsay! S-stop!" Skinner lunged towards her from where he had stood frozen against the wall, grabbing her arm and wrenching it away from Ramsay. She reeled away, yanking the knife from Ramsay's back. Skinner pressed his hands to the wound, trying fruitlessly to stem the bloodflow with tears in his eyes. "Rams," he said weakly. "You can't..." 

Yara was coming at him, brandishing the knife and he deflected, shoving her back and fumbling to grab the one Sansa had discarded. He slashed at her wrist when she tried to stab him too, and he looked desperately at Ramsay. His eyes were still fixed hazily on Theon, blood drying on his lips as they moved silently. He made an odd rasping sound as he tried to speak, and his whole body shuddered as he drew a painful breath. 

Ramsay was oblivious to everything else around him, not even hearing anything anymore behind the rushing sound in his own head, only fixated on Theon's teary face. His sweet, beautiful pup. He wouldn't let him die. He would save him. He would, he would... He blinked slowly, feeling drained and sluggish, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Theon, his perfect Theon... He tried to tell him he loved him, but he could only mouth the words. He felt so cold, so empty, and he just wanted to crawl into bed with Theon again. The morning... They were leaving in the morning, he’d be home to his girls, he just had to make it through this pain right now... He could do that, he could, with Theon looking at him with so much distress in his expression. He could scarcely see Theon now, though, but he wasn't worried. Theon would save him. He would, they had forever together, he just had to make it to the morning...

Skinner's eyes burned with tears and he shook his head as though he could deny it all and be back home, safe with Damon and Ramsay and all the Boys and the cat and the dogs, safe and sound at home, where they never should have left. Damon was right. Fuck it all, he was right, and Ramsay's blood was pooled thick around him, mingling with Yellow Dick's, and his eyes were blank and dead. He shoved Yara back again and stabbed her in the thigh, choking on a wretched sob, and scrambled for the door. Ramsay was gone, and all he had left was Damon. He needed Damon, now more than ever, and he wouldn't die with Ramsay.

“Bye, Rams.” Theon whispered, reaching out, carefully sliding his eyes shut. Then he choked out a sob, sitting back, curling in on himself. It was over. It was all over, but nothing felt okay. Ramsay was dead- he’d never wanted him dead, not even in his darkest moments, and now he’d just watched as his sister killed him. 

Yara, cursed, carelessly yanking the knife out of her thigh, and stumbled over to set to work removing the chains on Robb and the ropes on Sansa. They went to each other, sister to brother, Sansa’s slender arms wrapping around him as she cried. And Theon stayed by Ramsay’s corpse. 

Yara pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed for an ambulance. "Arya called me, by the way," she told Sansa. "Sneaky little bitch waited just until we left to call your mother, and she got through. She's on her way with Lieutenant Tarth and other police from the case."

Robb let himself sink against Sansa, relaxing in the warmth of her embrace. He was free, of both Ramsay and the chains, and he would be going home. To a hospital first, he was sure, but he'd be safe. Theon was safe, and he would never have to worry about Ramsay ever again. So why was he still kneeling beside the body? Robb stretched a hand out to him, touching his shoulder. 

"Thee," he rasped.

“Robb.” He whispered, turning to look at him. His beautiful Robb, hurt so badly from all his time down in the basement. “We- we need to get you to a hospital. You’re- have they fed you? Ha-have they fed you at all?” 

He shook his head ruefully. Sometimes he forgot about it, but the pain in his gut would never let him for long. Sansa pulled away, looking down Robb's body. She brushed her fingers over the healing wounds on his chest and torso, lingering on the edge of a particularly nasty one in the concave of his belly. It looked like Ramsay had just hacked at him with a knife in a fit of rage, and she was sure he had. There was an older wound on his thigh stitched messily together, likely where he had gotten shot.

She turned and looked at Yara. "Thank you," she murmured. She was an idiot, for coming in alone, but Yara's instincts proved true and she had saved her, saved them all.

“My Robb...” Theon whispered, finally moving away from Ramsay to instead hold Robb. “I’m sorry. I’m- I’m so sorry.” 

The knees of Theon's sweatpants were sodden with blood, and there was some smeared on his hands, but Robb didn't care. Sansa, too, was bloody, and the blood meant their demons were dead. "I love you," he said softly. He hated how hoarse and messed up his voice sounded, but it would get better. It would all be better soon.

“He told me- he told me you hated me, you thought I betrayed you. I- I knew he was lying. I knew. I love you. I- I love you so much. We’re safe. I- we’re safe, Robb. I love you.” 

There was noise upstairs, and then footsteps clambering downstairs, men and women with a stretcher coming into the room. Theon admired their professionalism, coming right over to Robb, who quite obviously needed the most help. Two of the paramedics went to Ramsay and Yellow Dick, presumably figuring out if they were alive. But Theon focused on Robb, on how they helped him onto the stretcher, and he followed after him. 

With all the attention surrounding it, Sansa looked at Yellow Dick's body for the first time since she had fled from it, and she couldn't help it. Tears sprang to her eyes, not of guilt or grief but fear. She had killed somebody. What if she went to jail? Robb saw and stretched his hand out to her, taking hers briefly before he was carried away.

Theon followed. He wasn’t about to leave Robb’s side. Not after being kept away from him for so long. 

“You don’t hate me?” Theon whispered, following them into the back of the ambulance. 

"Never," he whispered back. "I love you, with all my heart. My Thee." He felt weird calling him that, with Ramsay spending so long calling Theon 'my pup' or 'my pet', and it felt grossly possessive now.

Theon, however, didn’t feel weird about it. “Yours. Just yours. Not his, never- never his. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Robb relaxed. He squeezed Theon's hand, and as they came outside into the dying light, his eyes squinted shut. The cool air felt good on his skin and he felt better, despite the straps chafing against his sore spots. He had Theon with him again.

“I’m sorry for everything.” Theon said again. “But- But soon you’ll be better, a-and we’ll see our puppies again. And...” he paused, swallowing hard. “Are- am- I understand if you don’t want, but... are we still engaged?” 

"How could I ever not want you?" Robb brushed his fingers over Theon's cheek. He opened his eyes again just to look into Theon's. "I love you, Thee. I'm yours as long as you love me."

“You’ll be my husband soon.” Theon managed, tears on his cheeks. “It’ll- it’ll all be okay. We’re free. We’re- we’re together, and free.” They entered the ambulance, and Theon refused to leave Robb’s side. 

"I know it's hard," an EMT murmured, her face sympathetic, "but you have to give us some room, okay? He is severely malnourished, and we need room to work."

One man was already working on Robb's bullet wound, cutting apart the stitches. "This is infected," he told the others.

Theon stepped back as the ambulance began to move, looking at Robb, still holding his hand even at a distance. He saw him wince. “If- if you hurt, squeeze my hand. I’m here.” 

Robb didn't look as they worked. He didn't want to see them cutting into his skin, or the looks on their faces as they worked. He focused on Theon, on his face and his hand in his, his reassuring smiles, and the IV in his arm with its morphine injection. Eventually, it caused his eyelids to drop, reveling in his blessed release from constant pain and discomfort. He had Theon with him, and they were going to be okay.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due partly to a need to get a head start on the threequel and partly to a nearly total lack of feedback, we are cutting down to one update a week on Wednesday’s.

He didn't know how long it had been, but he woke up feeling better. It was bright in the room, and he lay blinking stupidly for a while before his eyes had adjusted. The IV was still in his arm but he was in a hospital bed, and there were thick bandages around his thigh. Robb remembered somebody saying it was infected, and he really hoped it got better. He didn't want his leg use compromised.

Theon was in a chair beside his bed, dozing off. Robb watched, smiling to himself. He looked so relaxed, and clean. Robb still felt so dirty; he hoped he was well enough to stand for a shower soon. He didn't want the embarrassment of a nurse helping him bathe.

"Thee," he murmured. His throat felt better, too. He guessed somebody had helped him to drink water while he was out of it, but he wasn't looking forward to using a bedpan. "Wake up, Thee."

The ring was back on Theon’s finger, glinting in the fluorescent light as he woke and lifted a hand to rub his eyes.

“You’re awake!” Theon felt drowsy, but the joy of seeing his fiancé awake and looking alive was overpowering. “Angel. Sweet angel. I’m here.”

"I'm awake," he echoed. "Are you—" He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the remaining dry rasp. His mouth still felt a little cottony. "Are you okay, Thee? Is Sansa okay? Yara?"

“They’re okay. Sansa’s at our place with the dogs... a lot of the legal stuff has been figured out already. None of us are in trouble. Roose Bolton was contacted, he’s the only living relative or known friend of either, and he doesn’t care to press any sort of charges.”

Robb nodded, relaxing on the bed. "Yara, though, she was stabbed. Is she okay?" And Sansa was almost raped, but he knew that kill would have been ruled as self defense, hands down. She would have the bruises to prove it.

“They’re okay. Yara is... well, you know. She stopped giving a shit the second the stitches were done. Went right home to Dany and the lizards.” He laughed softly, shaking his head.

"Is Euron still there? I don't remember," he said. His head was still so fuzzy. Robb tried to sit up, fumbling with the pillow underneath him to cushion his back. He wanted to be able to see Theon more clearly, without twisting his head to one side.

“Hey, hey... relax.” Theon soothed, not wanting Robb to stress himself out. “I’m right here, baby. How are you feeling?”

"Fine," he lied, sitting the rest of the way up. His head was swimming now, and he clutched the bar on the side of the bed to stabilize himself. "How long was I asleep? Have you been here the whole time, Thee?"

“Couple days.” Theon shrugged. “I can tell you’re lying. You’re not fine. I-I can tell you don’t feel good.”

Robb waved aside his concern. He really did feel better, for all he had slept and whatever nutrients they were feeding him through the IV tube. "I feel better knowing you're here, safe. Knowing that he's gone."

“Robb. Please. Relax, don’t stress yourself. Physically, or- or mentally.” Theon pleaded.

"I won't," he promised. "It feels good to sit up, and it only hurt for a second. I'm fine."

“Robb...” Theon sighed. “I- you know, I- I got to see Varys, he- he would be willing to talk to you? I know, well, I know he didn’t- I know he didn’t do anything with you mentally, but- but the physical attacks, those lead to trauma, emotional trauma and all, and- and he’d talk to you. He’s really good, he’s helped me a lot. He, uh, yeah, he’d talk to you? Or you could get someone else? Varys could help you find someone?”

Robb bit at his lip. "If Varys worked for you, back then, he'll work for me now. Won't he?" He didn't know what he would talk about, besides the constant rapes and violations of his body, and his ensuing fear of being touched by strangers, but if Theon recommended it he would go.

“Maybe.” Theon paused, and it was silent for a few long moments. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Robb, I- with him- I’m sorry. I cheated, he- he made me, I was so bad, it’s my fault you were there, my fault you got hurt- I’m sorry. I am.”

"You didn't cheat, he raped you. Both of us, and almost Sansa." Robb grabbed his hand and tugged Theon closer to the bed so he could hug him. "I love you. No matter what happened, I will always love you."

“They tortured you.” Theon choked out, arms tightening around him. “They- they starved you, Robb. If- if Sansa and Yara hadn’t... they said they were gonna let you go. When- when they took me to Essos, they were gonna let you go, he said.”

"He was going to kill me," Robb said. "Not let me go. He was going to kill me once you were on the boat, and leave me dying as he took you away. He told me that."

Theon’s eyes widened with horror. He was going to kill Robb? Ramsay had lied to him, of course he had... He sniffled, gut twisting. “I’m sorry.”

"Don't be sorry, I'm here. You're here. And he's gone, forever." He paused for a moment. "...Did they catch the other Boys? Or did they escape again?"

“They escaped. But I- I don’t think they’ll come back. Damon and- and Skinner, they- well, they love each other, a-and the others probably don’t wanna get caught. There’s no reason for them to come after us.” Theon wrung his hands in his lap. “Also, I- I got to see our doggies. Grey misses his daddy.”

"You saw him?" Robb shifted in the bed, now just wanting to get out and go see his boy. "How is he? I miss him."

“He’s good. Mopey. Jon said he’s been just laying at the door all the time. Queenie too, b- but she was so happy to see me. So was Grey, but... Queenie was more.”

Robb looked unhappily at his IV drip. "I've gotta get out of here and see my boy. Did the doctor say how long I would need this?" He hadn't been fed a thing for two weeks and had barely drank, but how long could he possibly need this for?

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I-I don’t really understand medical stuff. Or like it much, really. Sorry.” He shifted his gaze downward.

"That's fine. Don't worry about it," he said, and gave Theon a reassuring smile. "I shouldn't complain, anyways. It's better than a basement."

“Yeah...” Theon agreed, voice soft. He felt guilty, looking at Robb in the hospital bed. It was his fault. He should’ve just gone willingly with Ramsay when he broke in. Then Robb would’ve been safe.

"Hey, I know that look. Come here." Robb scooted over in the bed to make room for Theon, and he patted the bed beside him. "This isn't your fault, Thee."

“You don’t need to comfort me. I-I’m not the one who was hurt. I’m okay.” Theon forced a little smile, hesitating before moving onto the bed.

"You were hurt, Theon. More than I ever was, and you got better. I will too, so it's all okay. It's all over now." He cuddled against him, cherishing Theon's closeness, and the sheer fact that he was able to be close to him.

“They- they raped you.” He whispered. “All of them. And- and I watched, and I- how can you even bear to look at me? After what I did?”

"It's not what you did, it's what he made you do." They had raped him, about two or three times each that first night, then whenever they felt like it over the coming days. He hadn't had one day, it felt like, that he didn't have at least one visitor. More often than not, it was at least two, or the same Boy coming twice. He shuddered to think of it, but Theon meant safe. Theon meant home.

“At least he w-was gentle with m-me.” Theon closed his eyes, not wanting to think about it. How Ramsay had forced him to enjoy his assaults. How he’d raped him so... lovingly. So gently, and with so much care. It made him feel sick, made his gut twist with guilt and disgust. He hated himself. So much.

Robb retreated a hair, regarding Theon carefully. "I'm here, Theon. For you. Because of you. I do love you, okay? No matter what." Ramsay Bolton was dead, rotting somewhere, and he would never be able to come near them again. He still felt the phantom hands on his body, probing deep, and he feared they would always be there, but he didn't put much thought to that right now.

“I’m sorry, Robb. I’m sorry. It’s- it’s all my fault, it’s all my- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

And then Theon was crying, tears leaking from his closed eyelids, his shoulders shaking with tiny little silent sobs. Robb deserved someone better. Someone whole, who’d never have a crazy ex chasing them down. Someone without baggage, without a history of abuse and neglect. Someone normal. Because of Theon, now Robb would have to deal with trauma too. Now Robb had been hurt, had been beaten and tortured and raped.

"Oh, Thee, it's not..." Robb pulled him into a hug, kissing his cheek. Gods, why did this keep happening to them? To his poor Theon? "Don't cry, baby. I love you. It's not your fault."

“I-I’m so sorry,” Theon cried, leaning into him, curling up against him. “You-you’re the one who’s hurt, I-I should be comforting y-you, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. If it weren’t for me, you- you’d be safe a-and Sansa wouldn’t have ever been a-at risk. I’m so sorry. I-I- I’m sorry.”

"But we're okay now," he said, carding his fingers through Theon's soft hair. "I bet I'll be out of here soon, then I can see my puppy again, and we can go home."

“You’re hurt,” He was trembling, even with Robb’s gentle comforting. “It-it’s not okay, it won’t be okay, he- they- you’re hurt. They tortured you, a-and it’s my fault. You- you deserve b-better than me, you a-always have, I’m sorry, if- if it weren’t for me, you’d be okay, you wouldn’t be in- in the hospital.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

"If it wasn't for you, Thee... I don't know what I'd do with myself. I love you. I need you, and not... Not like he did, but I do. I don't want anyone better than you, cause there isn't anybody better. You're all I want."

Theon let out a small, hiccuping sob and turned to hide his face against Robb’s shoulder. “I love you. I just- they hurt you so bad because of me.”

"And now I'll get better again, with you." Robb lay back, bringing Theon down with him to snuggle against his side. "And he'll never touch you, either of us, ever again."

Theon was silent for a few minutes after that, but eventually spoke up, though his voice stayed quiet. “I- I never wanted anyone to die.”

"I know you didn't." There was no love lost between Robb and Ramsay Bolton, but he could still picture the look on his face as he went down, the way his blood had flowed so rapidly, so thickly, over the floor. He had never seen anybody die before, and it disturbed him. "But we're safe now."

“I know, but- but I- he was bad, I know, but it still... I think about his face, and the way he looked at me... he loved me. He was so bad, Robb, he- he was evil- he tortured me and you, and so many others, but he- he loved me. How was he even capable of it? Why me?”

"I don't know why. He's— He was fucked up, he always was, and he did love you. More than I thought possible for him. You're just... you. Special, I guess. And I'm the lucky one."

“Oh stop.” Theon managed, letting out a weak little giggle. “I’m lucky. I- I’ve got you. You’ve gone through so much for me. Wi-with me.”

"And I would do it all again, for you. If I could have taken your place the first time, and saved you from that? I would have in a heartbeat." Robb shifted slowly, a twinge of discomfort where the IV was in his arm, but he got his arm wrapped around Theon.

“I wouldn’t want that. I’d rather you safe. I just- I’m so thankful he didn’t do anything permanent. That you’re alive. I- I didn’t think he’d kill you. I never thought...”

"He was going to kill me and take you away forever, once it was too late. I don't know what I was going to do. Fight him, throw him in the water? I never would have fought off the group of them though, or made it away with you. It's just lucky that Sansa and Yara found us. Do you know how?" Robb asked.

“Sansa heard Luton in the grocery store. He was there with Skinner.” Theon shifted, curling up closer against Robb. “I missed you. I- he’d hold me, but it felt wrong, and- and waking up without you... I hated it.”

"We have forever, now. And they'll be back in Essos now, and won't be back. We'll be okay."

“I have the ring back. I’m wearing it. I missed that, too.” He said, voice soft. “Missed everything about you.”

"Mmm," Robb hummed happily. He kissed the top of Theon's head and the soft tresses of his hair. "I must smell terrible, though. Can't wait to be clean again."

“I don’t care how you smell. You’re my Robb. My Robb. I love you more than anything. Except maybe Queenie.”

"No, never more than Queenie. Or my Grey. That's different, though. I'm not engaged to Grey Wind, am I? I'm engaged to you." Robb smiled warmly. "We're going to get married."

“Married.” Theon agreed, letting himself finally relax, his tears gradually slowing. “We will. You’ll be my husband, and- and I yours. I love you.”


	31. Chapter 31

Skinner had never been so happy to see an old farmhouse before in his life. He went up the porch steps, wriggling bundle in hands, and went through the door. Ben immediately jumped up from the kitchen table. 

"You're home!"

"Yeah, the others are—" He broke off with a pained expression. "Coming. They're coming." Ben looked eagerly towards the door, watching as a bedraggled Luton and Sour Alyn walked through, and as the door closed, the seconds passed, and nobody else came, his face slowly fell. 

"Yellow Dick and Ramsay are dawdling then, hm?" He shook his head with a look of fond exasperation, and went to open the door and look outside. He came back in a moment later, confused. "Are they coming later, then? The girls have been so depressed, without Ramsay. I've missed him, too."

Skinner stared at him, his heart in shattered pieces in his chest. Luton and Sour Alyn exchanged stricken looks and slunk out of the room, heads down. Ben stared back at Skinner, worry building in the lines of his face. Skinner bit his lip and felt the moisture return to his eyes. Ben shook his head slowly, backing over to a chair to sit down. 

"Don't... Don't tell me."

"We got caught," Skinner whispered brokenly. He adjusted his hold on the squirmy bundle and tried not to let any tears fall. "Sansa Stark, and Yara Greyjoy. Stark got Yellow Dick, and the squid bitch snuck up behind Ramsay." 

Ben was still just staring at him, hands clutching at the knees of his old jeans. His eyes were dark and sorrowful, glistening with unshed tears.

"We ran... There was nothing I could do. I'm so sorry, Ben, I—" He broke off, drawing in a deep breath. "We left them there. We had to. They would have killed us too."

Ben nodded, finally lowering his gaze to his lap. A second passed, and he stood up again. "I'll... go see to the girls." He began to amble away, and Skinner called out to him. 

"Wait. Where's Damon?" 

Ben paused, and turned to go up the stairs. Skinner went after him, following Ben up to Skinner's own bedroom, the one he shared with Damon. Of course. Ben lingered while Skinner pushed the door open. 

A slim figure with long, cotton candy pink hair and the blanket pulled up to the chest lay on the bed, facing the wall away from him. Skinner stared, and turned to Ben. 

"Who the fuck's that girl?" he snapped, not amused in the slightest. Ben offered the ghost of a smile and trudged away, leaving Skinner alone with the stranger.

The stranger sat up at the noise, a little kitten climbing up to sit on his shoulder, and then Damon was glaring at Skinner with strands of newly pink hair falling in his face. At least, he was glaring as much as he could with his heart doing flips in his chest. “Hmph. Look what the cat dragged in, Steph.” 

Skinner gaped. All thought of what he had to tell Damom was momentarily forgotten. "Your hair is pink. What the fuck? When did you do that?"

“When I got home.” He stuck his tongue out as angrily as one could, then his gaze caught on the bundle squirming in Skinner’s lap. His eyes narrowed. “What is that.” 

"There was a stowaway on the boat we stole," Skinner said. He crossed the room and set the bundle down on the bed, letting the blanket fall open. A spotted kitten wriggled free, opening its jaws wide to let out a pitiful mewl. "Figured Stepphie might want a brother."

“A- a kitten? You got me a kitten?” 

Damon was suddenly ecstatic. He had his Skinner, alive and handsome, and a new kitten- one that was spotted and skinny with piercing green eyes, who was quickly moving to explore the bed. 

“Oh, Skinner!” Damon exclaimed, smile finally breaking out on his face. “I missed you, you absolute shithead.” 

"Yeah? I missed you too, fucker." Skinner grabbed Damon and pulled him into a bruising kiss, raking his fingers through his pink hair. "I think I could learn to like this color on you." Stepphie and the new kitten were touching noses, and the little spotted one bapped her with his paw.

Damon yanked him down onto the bed, not minding the new weight on top of him, and he laughed as he saw Stepphie bap the new kitten right back. He looked a bit rough, his pink hair a bit tangled, bags under his eyes- he hadn’t been sleeping much- but the light in his expression his all of that. He had his lover back, and another beautiful son. 

“Oh Skinner.” He sighed happily, the two of them shifting around so they could sit next to each other, the kittens now rolling around and playing by their feet. “I’m so glad you’re okay. And Ramsay. Where is he? I want to see him.”

Skinner stilled. "Damon, I— He..." Damon's grin was gradually fading with every second Skinner didn't answer, and it was a knife in the heart. "The last night, we... Their sisters found us. I don't know how, but..."

“But what, Skinner?” He pulled away, looking at him, hoping that what he feared wasn’t going to be said. It couldn’t be. There was no way. “What happened?” 

Once he started speaking, the words all spilled out in a rush. "We caught the Stark girl and they wanted to have some fun? So Yellow Dick was stripping her, but she knocked the table and got a knife, and— and..." He grimaced. "We were freaking out, and Luton and Sour Alyn ran but Ramsay started to go to get Theon, cause he didn't want to leave without him. Greyjoy snuck up behind him and she stabbed him, Damon, so many times and there was nothing I could do." His voice cracked pitifully and he wiped at his eyes furiously, as though he could wipe away the memory of his best friend bleeding out before him.

“No- she- she didn’t- he’s not- Skinner, he’s not! He can’t be. He’s not!” 

Damon felt dizzy. Sick and dizzy and confused, his head spinning, vision blurry, every sound seeming fuzzy in his mind. Ramsay was dead. Ramsay Bolton was dead. Ramsay, who had been one of his two best friends for most of his life, had been killed. Dead and gone. He had no friends to attend his funeral, Damon knew, no one would risk it. He and Skinner wouldn’t. Luton and Sour Alyn wouldn’t. Ben and Grunt wouldn’t. That was if he even had a funeral. 

Yellow Dick was dead, too- Yellow Dick and Ramsay Bolton, dead at twenty four and twenty two. Killed. While Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy were going to be able to go home safe and plan their wedding. 

Damon let out a sudden, loud sob. Who had he become these past few years? Torturing didn’t give him any sort of rush anymore, and murder and rape didn’t appeal to him. No, and it especially wouldn’t now after two of his best friends were murdered... his stomach twisted and turned, and it made him want to vomit. Why couldn’t they have been normal? If they’d just been a normal group of friends, they’d all be alive. They’d all be together, and never on the run. Looking back, he wasn’t even sure how they’d originally gotten into all the sick things they did. He’d enjoyed it, of course, all the hunts, all the times with the boys all together... but was it worth it? Was the thrill of torturing worth losing two of their own? It had made them all feel good, it used to make him feel a sort of rush- something that he now got from Skinner, and Stephanie, and soon his new kitten, an overwhelming sense of love that rushed through his veins almost constantly. A purpose. 

He wasn’t a remorseful man, nor a good or reasonable one. He was sick and twisted, but for the first time in his life, he felt guilt. Guilt for leaving. Guilt for not trying hard enough to make Ramsay come home. To realize that home wasn’t a place, but was wherever his friends were. His boys. His family. Damon remembered what it was like when he was younger. His parents never cared for him. All he’d ever had were the boys. First Skinner, and then the others. 

And now two of the only people who cared about him were dead. 

His sobs shook his body- loud, ugly, heaving sobs, snot and tears running down his face. Why couldn’t they have just stayed at the farm? All of them, Ramsay and Yellow Dick and the others. They were a family. They were. They would kill for each other, that wasn’t even a question, and they had no one but each other, all eight of them. And now there were two gone. 

Who was he anymore? Who was he, crying while sitting bed, thinking about love and family, wishing they’d never made their first kill? Who was he, feeling regret for doing what he had to do and fleeing Westeros? Feeling remorse? Feeling guilt? Ramsay was dead, Yellow Dick was dead, both gone forever. 

They were dead. 

The words kept playing in his head and he wished they would go away. The same words over and over and over. Dead. Murdered. They were dead. He’d never laugh with Ramsay again, never drink with him and call his ideas stupid. He’d never tease Yellow Dick again, or try to trick him into showering- he’d never fucking smell him again. 

Why had Ramsay fallen for someone who didn’t want him? Why had he risked so much? And why hadn’t Damon stuck by him? He felt so sick, felt so much guilt. He was choking on it, drowning in it. All he wanted was Skinner. Skinner and his cat. His two cats now, really. His little, happy family. 

Stephanie thought they were good people, and she was a pure, tiny thing. Theon, Ramsay’s pet, had been drawn to Skinner, always seeking help from him, as if he could see some sort of deep-down goodness in him that no one else could, some sense of humanity that was hidden away. Humanity that Damon knew about, that Damon saw in the way Skinner looked at him and their kitten- kittens. Skinner cared about things, he was capable of it, he always had been. How long had Skinner wished for a safe life, he wondered? One without the risks? How long had he wished for one himself, without realizing it? 

It hurt, his heart aching as if a hole had been shot through it, leaving a gap where two of his best friends once were. His head hurt, his breathing shallow. He was so distressed, so worked up, and he wished he could throw away his guilt and pain. He did his best to quiet his sobs, his whole body beginning to tremble as he did. He held them back until his throat was aching and his sobs had quieted to soft, sniffling cries. 

“He’s- He’s not, Skinner, tell me he’s not. He’s not.” Damon’s voice was, for once, weak and soft. 

"I'm sorry, Damon. You were right, we should have said 'fuck it' and left. Even if we'd just left early, he could have killed Stark and taken Theon, but if we'd just left earlier... And I ran like a fucking coward, and left him there!"

“No!” Damon exclaimed. “No, Skinner. No. If you’d stayed, what if they killed you, too? Who would I have? I love you, you idiot, I love you, and I would’ve lost my best friend and lover.” 

Skinner said nothing. He could only picture Ramsay and Yellow Dick, dying slowly, suffering, while he stood frozen in shock. He could have done something, gotten that knife faster and stabbed her somewhere besides the thigh. He could have slit her murderous throat and killed the others, too, and they all would have been long gone by the time anybody found the bodies. But he didn't. He lowered his head against Damon's shoulder, thinking that he had never wanted a hug more in his life.

Damon could sense it, could sense Skinner’s need for comfort, and so he slowly moved himself onto his lap and wrapped his arms snugly around him. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” He said, voice cracking. “If you’d died...” 

"You would have been right twice, then. You do love being right." He really just wanted Ramsay and Yellow Dick back, wanted his friends alive and happy and with them, but if he couldn't have that, at least he had Damon.

“I’d rather wrong and still have my best friend alive.” Damon leaned back a little as Stepphie climbed onto their laps between them, and the new kitten followed. He smiled a little, scooping up the tiny spotted boy. “I have a name for him, I think.” 

"He already has a name, I named him," Skinner said, a little indignantly. "It's R—"

“Teensy Weensy.” Damon interrupted, giving Skinner a look. “His name is Teensy Weensy. Because he is teensy, and he is weensy.” The cat batted at him and he couldn’t help but giggle a little bit. 

"Please don't. It's a kitten, he's not going to stay small. Please don't do that to him." Skinner would rather chew glass than have to call the cat 'Teensy Weensy' for the rest of its life. He had been calling the cat Rams Junior on the way over.

“Teensy Weensy.” Damon cooed. The little cat squirmed, meowed, then bapped his nose again. “That’s his name. He likes it, Skinner. He does. Teensy Weensy.” 

Skinner glanced at Stephanie, and she mewed at him. She wasn't much of a tiny kitten anymore, now almost four months old, but she was still fairly small. Only a little bigger than this spotted kitten, whose new name Skinner hated. 

"I think he just likes the attention. Not the name."

“He’s my Teensy Weensy son.” Damon’s tears had quickly dried once the cat was in his arms. “Oh. Skinner. Skinner, I love you. You got me another kitty. I love you.” 

"Two is enough, right?" Skinner said hopefully. As much as he liked cats, he didn't think he could handle more of them, or handle Damon with anymore than just the two. Damon with one cat was a lot to handle, he dreaded the thought of having three or four. Two was more than enough, in his mind.

“For now.” Damon nodded, smiling at his kitty. “Thank you. I-“ He looked up at Skinner, solemn expression suddenly returning. “We’ll be okay, you and me, and the other boys. We will. We’ll be okay. Especially us, our little family. Our two kitties.” 

"We'll have to be okay. We're never leaving Essos again, not for anything." He just wished they had never left in the first place. Ramsay and Yellow Dick would still be alive if they hadn't, and Skinner wouldn't have this empty pit in his chest.

“This is home.” Damon said softly. “We’ll be okay, even without Ramsay and Yellow Dick. At least... at least they didn’t suffer. Not long, anyway.” It was a funny thing to say for someone who’d watched and helped torture take place, making people suffer for a long while before they finally died. 

They died slow, and Skinner had watched it, but he didn't say that. Let Damon think what he needed to make himself feel better. Skinner at least wouldn't be okay for a while to come. He still saw Ramsay's blood in his mind's eye, could still smell the rich, coppery stench.

“I love you.” Damon said, cuddling Teensy Weensy to his chest. “You and our kitties. I’m so glad you’re home.”

Teensy Weensy squirmed a little, then began to butt his head against Damon and purr loudly, causing him to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read more about Damon and Skinner here!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20771783/chapters/49358516


	32. Chapter 32

He was finally going home. It had only been two days since he had woken up, but it felt like it had been weeks. All he wanted was to cuddle his baby and give him all the love and kisses he had been deprived of over the last few weeks. His mother had come to pick him up, and Theon sat beside him in the backseat. They held hands, but all Robb could think of was seeing Grey Wind again. 

"I missed him," he complained, staring out the window as though impatience would get them home faster.

“He missed you too. He’ll be so happy.” Theon smiled at him. Jon was at the apartment with the dogs, and Grey Wind was sure to lose his shit the moment Robb walked in the door. 

Robb grinned back. He was ready to be home, amongst other things, and have a peaceful rest of his life. No more Ramsay Bolton. No more Bastard's Boys, because there was no Bastard. Just him and Theon, and Queenie and Grey Wind. Happy together.

“I think he was mad when I visited and didn’t bring you with me.” Theon laughed softly, shaking his head. “Queenie will be happy to see you, too. It’ll be so nice. Our own apartment, our bed, our puppies...”

"Especially our puppies," Robb said. "I can't wait to see him."

"Please don't become a hermit with your dog," Catelyn said from the front seat. "Your mother would like to see you at some point, you know. She's been worried sick."

"Yeah, mom, I know." There was only soft amusement in the words, because he had missed her too. "Dinner tomorrow night? Does that work for you, Thee?"

“Of course.” Theon nodded, his smile widening as they pulled up to the apartment. Almost instantly, a doggie snout poked past the curtains, and then a ball of fluff jumped onto the windowsill. 

Robb threw the door open as soon as the car parked, bolting up the drive and seizing the knob. As soon as he opened the door, his massive wolfdog was leaping against him, yipping like a puppy, his whole body shaking with the force of his tail wags. 

"Hi buddy! Oh my goodness, I missed you so much!" Robb dropped to his knees and let Grey Wind deliver kisses all over his face before he kissed him back on the nose and pulled him into a hug. "Oh baby boy, I love you so much."

Theon came in a minute later, scooping up his bouncy Pomeranian and laughing as he watched Robb, the massive wolf dog acting like a tiny pup. “Our puppies are so happy.” He cooed, lighting up as Queenie licked him frantically. 

"Because we're finally home! Right, Grey?" Grey Wind wagged excitedly, licking his face again. "Come on, bud, let's see if we can find you guys some treats!" Robb stood and jogged off to the kitchen, Grey Wind hot on his heels. The treat jar would need refilling, he noted, and any leftovers they had in the fridge would have to be thrown out, but it was good to be home.

“We cleaned out your fridge and cabinets already.” 

As they walked into the kitchen they saw Jon, leaning against the counter and smiling at them. “I have treats and food for the dogs in bags in the car.”

“Thank you.” Theon smiled at him, holding Queenie like a baby in his arms. 

"Thanks, Jon. And thanks for taking care of him that whole time." 

"Anytime. But, try not to get kidnapped again, okay?" Jon gave an wry smile.

"Not planning on it," Robb replied, sitting down in the nearest chair. Dropping to his knees to greet Grey Wind had caused pain to twinge through the bullet wound in his thigh. It had been properly treated at the hospital, and bore thick and stiff bandaging, but due to how long it went untreated beyond rudimentary stitches, it had gotten infected, and it hurt.

“I don’t think anyone wants to kidnap us now.” Theon sat down on a chair, Queenie happily settling down in his lap. 

"Nope, not anymore. They're either dead or on the run." Robb smirked to himself, stroking Grey Wind's silky ears. Because of Ramsay, he flinched whenever he was touched unexpectedly, but Ramsay was dead.

“He’s so happy to see you.” Theon sighed happily, looking over at the wolf dog. “He missed you, Robb. He’s just a big baby.” 

"He's my big baby! Right, Grey?" Grey Wind wiggled happily and slapped one paw on Robb's leg, fortunately his good one. Robb humored him and shook it. "You're just a happy boy, aren't you?"

“Just a baby. Queenie is a little, tiny baby.” Theon cooed, smiling down at the fur ball in his lap. 

"Not so little anymore." Robb reached over and gently poked Queenie's belly. "Was that your doing, or Sansa's?"

“Hey!” Theon exclaimed, giving Robb an indignant look that Queenie copied. “What are you implying?” 

"All I'm saying is," Robb said carefully, "she's gotten a little chubby. Just a wee bit. Look," he said, and gently poked her belly again. She squirmed angrily and flopped onto her belly to protect it from further pokes.

“How dare you!” Theon protectively patted her little head. “She is not! She is very fit!” 

"Maybe after some extra walks," Robb teased. He tapped Grey Wind's side so he would stand up, and Grey Wind shoved his nose in Robb's face. "Oh, hello," Robb laughed. "Back up, buddy, okay? Let me get up."

"He missed you, Robb. He's gonna be clingy," Jon said.

“I can’t believe this.” Theon grumbled, still offended by Robb calling his dog chubby. She did have some pudge, yes, and a very soft, squishy belly- but she was in shape. “Queenie is perfect.” 

"Of course she's perfect!" Robb exclaimed, affronted. "She just has a little extra perfection going on there. Because you feed her treats whenever she looks at you.”

Theon glowered at him. “She deserves them. How dare you.” 

"Yes, of course she does! Maybe just give her one or two instead of six, though?" Robb suggested, still grinning to show that he was joking.

“Unbelievable.” Theon huffed, lifting her off his lap to hug her to his chest instead. 

"She's just a little pudgy," Jon said, throwing his hands up in surrender when Theon shot him an offended glare. Robb laughed.

“She’s perfect. You both shush. You’re making her insecure.” Theon hugged her a little tighter. 

"Nobody's saying she's not perfect," Jon said, but he and Robb both dropped it. Grey Wind padded around the kitchen, and as he rounded the island counter and saw Robb again, his tail began to wag once more.

“There’s your big baby!” Theon brightened up as he watched Grey Wind get excited all over again, wagging his tail, tongue lolling out of his mouth. 

"There he is! Oh, there you are! Hi, buddy!" He threw his arms open and Grey Wind came loping back, tongue lolling, to climb up and get as much of his body onto Robb's lap as he could.

“I missed this. You and me and the pups, safe and together.” Theon said softly. “And Jon too, I guess, since he’s here.” He added as a joke. 

"I'll get going," Jon said, beginning to walk away. "Let you guys get used to being home again. If you need anything, call me, or Sansa. Or Catelyn. Call somebody."

"Thanks, Jon." Robb stood up and gave him a hug. He had missed his brother too, of course.

“I’d hug you too, but I’m holding little miss Queenie.” Theon gave her little head a tiny smooch. “Tell Ygritte, Ghost, Ghost’s baby mama, and the puppies that I said hi.” 

"You'll have to come see the puppies soon," Jon said eagerly. "They opened their eyes a while ago, and they're getting big and fluffy. Super cuddly, too."

"Are you keeping any?" Robb asked. 

"There's one we're giving him to Tormund and Mance. He's smoky gray with Ghost's eyes. He looks really cool."

“I bet.” Theon looked over to Robb, slightly pouty, wanting his fiancé back by his side again. 

Robb took the hint and returned to him, Grey Wind barely straying an inch from his side. Jon said goodbye one last time and was heading out the door, and Robb took Theon's hand. 

"I need to shower," he murmured, tracing his thumb over the lines of Theon's palm.

“Okay, love. Do you want me to-“ He began without thinking, then cut himself off. No. Robb had been naked for so long, naked and ogled at by men who wanted only to hurt him, men who raped him- Theon highly doubted Robb wanted to be naked and alone with anyone else right now. “Be safe, baby. Enjoy the shower, okay?”

"Yeah. Thank you," he said, bringing Theon's hand to his lips to kiss it. "I love you, Thee. I'm sorry I can't..." Could only kiss him, hug him, but nothing more.

“I don’t want to do anything. Not now, not yet. And when I do... I’ll wait for you. However long you need. Even if it’s the rest of our lives. Whatever you need, I swear it.” Theon smiled, reaching to tuck a stray curl behind Robb’s ear. “Now go shower, handsome.” 

"Thank you, Thee." Robb leaned into his touch, eyes closing for a moment. This touch was nice. This, he cherished. He headed off to the bathroom and struggled with applying plastic wrapping around his thigh, and once he was in the shower he merely stood. The water was scalding, beating down hard against his back, and it felt so damned good. He wanted to feel clean, hadn't felt clean in so long, that when he did pick up the loofah, he scrubbed his skin until it was red and raw. 

When the water was running lukewarm and the bathroom was steamy, he turned the water off and stepped gingerly onto the mat. The towel, soft as it was, made him wince as it made contact with his scrubbed skin.

Theon, growing worried at how long Robb was in the bathroom- after all, he himself had shut himself away in a bathroom to cut himself when he’d been freed from Ramsay the first time- hurried over to the door after waiting at least twenty minutes. He took a deep breath to calm himself before knocking. “... Robb? You okay, baby?” 

"Y-Yeah, I'm okay, Thee," Robb called back. He looked down at his tender, reddish pink skin and grimaced before rubbing himself dry and throwing on a fluffy bathrobe and tying the waist tight. "You can come in, if you want."

“You sure?” Theon asked, waiting for an affirmative noise before slowly opening the door. Grey Wind slipped in past him, nosing at Robb’s bathrobe pocket, as if expecting to find treats. He didn’t. “Hi.” He smiled, looking at his fiancé, hair wet and skin a raw pink, but still so handsome. 

"Hi, Grey." Robb patted him absentmindedly, looking at Theon. "Hi, Thee." He felt clean, at least, and Theon's gaze had him feeling much less exposed and vulnerable than those of the nurses he had seen in the hospital.

“What did you wanna do today?” Theon asked, voice soft. “I could cut your hair? It’s getting long.” 

Robb tugged at a wet curl. "Is it? I kind of like it." Dry, it reached just passed the tops of his ears, and he had a messy swath of curls on top.

“Yes. It’s nice, but, I- um- not to be a hairdresser in the home, but... you’re getting split ends...” Theon’s cheeks flushed, feeling bad. He didn’t want to make Robb feel insecure. 

Robb sighed, letting go of his curl. "Go ahead and snip them, then. Clean me up." He didn't mind it too much, really. Hair would always grow back, and it would make Theon happy. Anything that would make Theon happy was good by him.

Theon’s smile slowly faded, though he did his best to keep it on his face. Robb liked his newly, somewhat-long hair, it was one good thing to come out of the situation, and Theon had to go blow it talking about split ends. “No, it’s okay. It looks good. I’m just... it’s the way the light hits.” He laughed softly, forced, rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s just the hairdresser in me talking. It’s nothing. It’s not noticeable. I’ll just- just let me comb it, and condition it and stuff? Like... like use some natural products on it? Moisturizer and stuff?” 

"Trim the split ends, Thee," Robb said with a hint of a smile. "Keeps me healthy, right?" He ran his fingers through his hair one last time and moved to stand in front of the sink. "Do whatever you need to do to it."

“Let me get you a chair, okay? And I’ll get one of the little fluffy towels, for your neck?” Theon hurried out of the room, coming back with a chair from their room, with a nice cushy seat and low, curved headrest- one that he’d bought specifically for cutting Robb’s hair, but he didn’t tell Robb that was the reason. He gently eased Robb into it after taking a ton of bottles out from under the sink and then grabbing a towel from the closet. 

He folded the soft, extra fluffy towel, loosely draping it around his neck, making sure his hair wasn’t tucked under it. He then began organizing the bottles, finding the right products, and took a small pair of scissors from the medicine cabinet. 

“Are you comfortable, Robb?” He asked, carefully combing his fingers through the wet, auburn curls. 

"Yeah, Thee." It was always relaxing, to have Theon running his fingers through his hair. Theon was good, his touch was good. Theon loved him, and Robb loved Theon. Anything Theon could do to him... He trusted Theon, like he trusted nobody else.

“Still so soft... even after weeks without washing, it’s so soft, and no permanent tangles...” He picked up a wide-toothed comb and began working at the small knots, able to remove each and every one of them. 

"Because you took such good care of it before, I'm sure. My hair was conditioned enough to last." Robb chuckled. Theon was almost anal about Robb's hair; he loved touching it and combing it, playing with it in bed after sex. Sometimes he thought Theon was fussier over Robb's hair than Jon was over his own.

“Well. You have the prettiest hair in Westeros. All these little curlies... It deserves to be cared for. You deserve to be cared for.” Theon pumped some product into his hand and began to massage it into Robb’s scalp. 

"I love you, Thee." Robb relaxed further into Theon's touch, eyes closing contentedly. He could fall asleep like this, really.

“I love you too.” Theon replied, smiling as Grey Wind sat down and plopped his fuzzy head down on Robb’s lap. Queenie came in moments later, using Grey Wind’s tail as a pillow. “My soft boy.” 

"Two soft boys and one plush lady," Robb said, patting Grey Wind's head. "Baby, baby boy!" He squished his ears back flat against his head and Grey Wind looked plaintively up at him. The fact that he didn't move away was proof enough of how much he had missed Robb.

“He is a baby boy.” Theon said fondly, just happy to see Robb happy, and he couldn’t help but giggle at the look on Grey Wind’s face. “Maybe I should do his hair, too.” He was taking his time with Robb’s, enjoying the feel of the soft curls beneath his fingertips. 

"Good luck," Robb scoffed. "He's a squirmer. The second you come towards him with a brush, he's wiggling. Not as bad as Nymeria, though." Robb laughed, remembering that one memorable day when Nymeria dragged Arya through the yard while trying to escape the brush. He got to see his family tomorrow, back home.

“Queenie loves the brush. It’s pampering. It’s not bad. Grey, look! Not bad!” Theon picked up a human hairbrush and wiggled it in the wolf’s general direction, causing him to stand up and inch away. Queenie, who’d been sat on his tail, gave him a nice hard smack on the butt as he stood. 

Grey Wind hurried out of the room as Theon brandished the brush towards him, leaving a disgruntled Queenie in the dust. Robb was laughing. He had missed this, all of it, the dogs' antics and Theon beside him, Theon's laughter...

“Unbelievable.” Theon snorted, putting down the brush and reaching to scoop up Queenie, his confused and annoyed little ball of fluff. “Your hair is all set for now, love.” 

"Thanks, Thee." Robb stood up and ruffed the towel over his head to free up the loose trimmed hairs, and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was drying in loose curls, soft and wavy, and he felt clean. Happy.

“You’re welcome, my handsome king.” Theon teased gently, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “Now let’s go watch movies or something, okay? We can cuddle with the dogs, and I’ll make something out of the food we have. It will be a good night. And then we can sleep in our own bed. It’ll be nice, I promise.” 

They spent the night tangled in each other’s arms.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I’m posting this late in the day but honestly it’s hard to keep motivated when we get basically no feedback at all.

Theon loved the Starks, of course, all of them had worked a place into his heart in their own weird little way, but he was still a bit nervous about the family dinner. Even Jon and Ygritte would be there, apparently, wanting to see the two of them again. He’d gotten to see his own family- or rather, just Yara- while Robb was still unconscious in the hospital. He knew this meant a lot to Robb, this little family dinner, and so it meant a lot to him too. 

Catelyn had picked them up, not wanting Robb to return to driving just yet- not until his leg fully healed- and she didn’t even complain when Grey Wind jumped into the vehicle and Theon sat with Queenie on his lap. 

“Did you boys have a good night? You look much better.” Catelyn smiled fondly at her eldest, the car still in park in the driveway. 

"Yeah, Theon cut my hair for me," Robb said, stroking a sleepy Grey Wind's head.

"I saw, it looks a lot better. Very handsome." Catelyn gave Theon an appreciative look before starting to back out of the driveway. "It's good to have you both home."

“The puppies agree.” Theon said, Queenie giving a happy little yip of agreement. 

"Excited to see your brothers and sisters? And your nieces and nephews?" Robb kissed Grey Wind's nose and his tail thumped against the rubber floor mat. "Sweetie boy."

“Jon is bringing all the dogs too?” Theon turned to Robb with wide eyes and Queenie copied him, looking like a textbook example of people that look like their dogs. 

"It's a family reunion," Robb said, grinning. "That's what he said, anyways. He's not bringing the mother, don't worry."

"She's high content, right?" Catelyn asked. 

"Yeah. Super high, she stays in the backyard cause she's kinda wild. Good mom, though, and seems to tolerate people well enough." Jon had told Robb all of this before Ramsay happened, when the puppies had first been born. He had been working at the rescue too, whilst Robb had had to stop for the semester due to his classes and workload.

“The house is gonna be overrun with dogs. You think they’re bigger than Queenie yet?” He lifted her up by her armpits, exposing her pudgy belly to the air. 

"They're what, five weeks? Six?" Robb thought for a moment. "About the same size. She's a little big for a Pommie... but it might just be because of the fluff."

Theon gasped, scandalized, and quickly pulled Queenie to hide her chunky belly against his chest, hugging her snugly. She looked at Robb with once again the same expression as Theon. “How dare you!” 

"What? She's fluffy! All Pommies are!" Robb stared at him, bewildered, and Grey Wind pressed his snout against his stomach.

“She is not big for a Pom! She is little! She is a small Pomeranian, practically a teacup!” Theon insisted, and Queenie yipped her agreement. 

Queenie, who weighed about twelve pounds and would have broken any teacup, wiggled in Theon's hands while Robb gave them a look. "Whatever you say, Theon." But he was smiling, and Catelyn was chuckling in the front seat.

“Perfect. My perfect little baby.” Theon softened his voice, looking fondly down at his little ball of fluff. “Perfect girl. Queenie. Little baby. Wee tiny thing. Robb. Look at her.” He lifted her up near Robb’s face, and she promptly wapped him with her little paw. 

"Hey, rude!" Robb bapped her right back, on the nose with a gentle finger. She sneezed in his face and squirmed out of Theon's hands, falling to the seat. 

"Careful," Catelyn warned. Sometimes it felt like they were still young teenagers, not grown adults.

“Hey! Careful!” Theon gasped playfully, giving Queenie some reassuring pats. “She has a sensitive little nose. Sensitive!” 

"I think you're the sensitive one," Robb said, not unkindly. He reached out to give Queenie a gentle pet, ruffling her thick fur. "Pretty girl." Grey Wind shoved his nose against Robb's arm, drawing attention back to himself. "Yes, you too, handsome boy. I didn't forget you, I could never forget you."

“Drowned God forbid anyone else has your attention.” Theon teased, smooching Queenie’s head, then reaching over to pat Grey Wind. 

They pulled into the driveway, and Robb looked out the window at his childhood home. He missed it sometimes, but loved having his own space with Theon. When the door opened, though, Grey Wind bounded free and bolted off to the backyard. Queenie wiggled. 

"Dinner will be ready in an hour, okay?" Catelyn said as they got out. "Go see your brothers and sisters. They've been worried sick."

“Okay, princess, okay...” Theon murmured, putting his pup down and letting her bounce after Grey Wind. He took Robb’s hand as they got out, giving it a little squeeze. “It’ll be nice to see everyone again.” 

"Yeah," Robb agreed, swinging his hand as they followed the dogs to the backyard. Rickon and Arya were running around with Grey Wind and Queenie, Shaggydog and Nymeria at their heels. Bran and Summer were on the back porch, his hand on Summer's head and his eyes closed, relaxing in the sun. Sansa sat brushing Lady under the willow tree, her hair tied back. Margaery was with her, and their heads were close in quiet conversation.

"Yeah," Robb agreed, swinging his hand as they followed the dogs to the backyard. Rickon and Arya were running around with Grey Wind and Queenie, Shaggydog and Nymeria at their heels. Bran and Summer were on the back porch, his hand on Summer's head and his eyes closed, relaxing in the sun. Sansa sat brushing Lady under the willow tree, her hair tied back. Margaery was with her, and their heads were close in quiet conversation.

Little Rickon was the first to actually notice them- though he wasn’t so little anymore, and hadn’t been for a while. Theon couldn’t help but think of him as little. He was nine years old now, and in fourth grade. Yet the childlike glee that lit up his face as he saw his big brother made him look like he was six all over again, and he sprinted across the yard, leaving Shaggy in the dust. 

“Robb!” Rickon flung himself at his big brother, hugging him tight. “And Theon! You’re home! You’re back!” 

Robb's leg buckled under Rickon's added weight and Theon had to catch him by the arm. “Hey, Rickon! I missed you! How's school been?" Rickon stuck out his tongue. 

“I don't wanna talk about school. Come see Shaggy! I taught him to speak."

“Oh boy.” Theon grinned, looking over to Shaggy, who had trotted up behind Rickon. “Alrighty. Make him speak.” 

"Shaggy, speak!" Rickon ordered. Shaggydog sat down, threw his head back, and let out a horrible screeching howl more like a scream than anything else. When he had finished, he dropped to the grass and crawled on his belly towards Rickon, tail wagging furiously. Robb burst out laughing. 

“Why would you teach him that?" he asked, grinning breathlessly.

Theon also burst out laughing, looking at a squirming dog and a very proud Rickon. “That’s perfect. I love it. Shaggy, speak!”

Shaggy obeyed and set off into a new howl, tipping his head back dramatically as he did and leaving Theon gasping for breath between laughs. 

"Good boy!" Rickon praised at the same time Catelyn shouted to quiet him down. Shaggydog wiggled happily. Arya and Sansa were both making their way over now, followed by the dogs and Margaery. 

"Welcome home," Sansa said, pulling Robb into a hug first, and then Theon. Arya, still so small at fourteen but taller now, seized Robb around the middle, scowling. 

"So stupid, you guys," she mumbled. "Learn to stay safe."

“They broke in!” Theon whined. “We are safe!” But to be fair, they hadn’t locked any of their doors... he stopped thinking about it, and instead focused on giving Sansa a tight hug. “Missed you, Sans.” 

"Gods, I was so worried about you both. I'm so glad you're safe," Sansa said, squeezing Theon close. She still bore dark bruises on her hips and thighs, but it was a terrifying close call and nothing more, and she was safe. She was fine, and now Theon and Robb were too. Her brothers.

“You too, Sansa. I’m glad you’re not hurt.” His voice softened, and he smiled at her one they pulled away from each other. He gave a little wave to Margaery, who was standing behind her. 

"Oh!" Arya shouted suddenly, drawing their attention to the side of the house. Jon and Ygritte were making their way to the backyard, Ghost trotting beside them and Jon carrying a crate full of squirming puppies. 

"You did bring them!" Sansa gasped, face flush with excitement.

All eleven puppies were there, and soon bumbling across the lawn, all the big dogs treading gently around them- even Shaggy, who was immediately enraptured by a little dark grey pup with red eyes. Theon practically squealed. 

“The babies!” He exclaimed. “Wee babies!” 

"Do they know what they're naming him?" Robb asked, sitting beside the red-eyed puppy. It felt good to sit down and relieve the pressure on his leg. He stroked his head, marvelling at the soft pup fluff, and the baby nipped at his fingers with razor sharp puppy teeth.

One of the puppies was with Shaggy, one clinging to Ghost like his little multicolored shadow, and the other nine were bumbling around aimlessly. 

“Here, puppy puppy!” Theon called out to no dog in particular as he sat down beside Robb, and two instantly turned and bounded over to him. They were both wee little ladies, tiny tails wagging, golden eyes fixed on him. One was more brown and the other light grey, both with patches of white. “Hello little women!” 

Jon sat down beside them, scooping a puppy in his lap. Ghost trotted off, herding his puppies towards the group. Rickon was beside himself with joy, and Sansa and Margaery were both cooing over a puppy that had run up to them. Arya was tickling one boy's belly, his tiny tail wagging. 

"They don't know the name yet. We're calling him Blue right now, cause the collar." He pointed to the little colored color he wore; each puppy wore a different colored band around their neck, soft and stretchy. "But that won't stick. Honestly, I don't think Tormund has ever named a pet before and he seems pretty excited."

“So I have... Pink and Yellow.” Theon grinned widely. When he looked out, he also saw Green, Purple, Black, White, Grey, Gold, and Red- Blue was with Shaggy, and Orange with Jon. The two girls climbed up more onto his lap and he laughed. “Hi Pink. Hi Yellow. You are very pretty little ladies. Yes, you are indeed. Very proper ladies.” He laughed more as their tiny tails wagged harder, and Pink began gnawing at his shirt while Yellow tried to nibble his fingers. 

Robb picked up Gold as he tried to scoot by, holding the squirmy puppy up to look at him. "Gods, he's cute," he said reverently. Gold jerked his paws, velvet soft pads tapping on Robb's arm as the pup wiggled. Robb held him in his lap as the puppy settled, yawning hugely. "Grey! Hey, Grey! C'mere!" Grey Wind came trotting over, nosing at the puppy curiously. "How'd you feel about a little brother?" Grey Wind's stance stiffened; he eyed the little guy first, then gave Robb a look of utmost betrayal before flopping down and putting his head on Robb's foot, resolutely ignoring him.

Queenie, seeing her step brother go over, also followed over. She, however, was ecstatic about the other dogs. 

“You want tiny sisters?” Theon cooed to her, and Queenie yipped and bounced before shifting her attention to Grey Wind, nosing at his snout. Pink seemed fascinated by the new, fluffy dog, and quickly climbed off Theon to visit Queenie instead. 

Robb heard a laugh, and he turned to see that Ygritte had moved Bran off the porch down to join them, and helped him to sit in the grass with the puppies. Two were already nosing him for attention. Robb felt a flash of guilt for not thinking to do that, but Bran didn't seem too fussed, more concerned with the two puppies climbing into his lap. Summer lay behind him for back support. Arya scooted over to him, showing him the puppy that she was holding. 

"If you're not careful, Jon, they might start begging you to keep them all," Robb said, turning back.

Theon turned to Robb, doing his best puppy dog eyes and his most alluring pout. “Robb. I want to keep them all.” 

"We can't keep them." As cute as they were, it wasn't realistic to keep twelve wolf dogs and a Pomeranian in a moderate-sized apartment. It was hard enough sometimes with just one wolfdog. 

"We're only giving the one to Mance and Tormund," Ygritte said, plopping down beside Jon. "The rest of them are going back to the sanctuary with their mama, and Ghost isn't allowed to visit anymore." She snickered, and Jon gave her a weary look. 

"You were supposed to be watching him," Jon reminded her. 

"Well, that's awfully rude. I thought I should give them some privacy, once they got going." Ygritte grinned, and Jon made a disgusted face.

“Ygritte is no voyeur.” Theon teased, resting his head on Robb’s shoulder as Yellow tried to climb up his shirt. “Little lady! Relax!” She did not, however, relax, and continued trying to climb up him. 

She yipped and smacked her little paw on his chest, before squirming and cuddling down into his lap. The pink girl and Queenie were playing, rolling in the grass, and Ghost has returned to stand beside Jon and watch. One puppy, the green boy, tailed him. He was a mottled gray with wide eyes and a round face, and he stared up at Ghost as though afraid he would disappear if he took his eyes off him.

“That’s a good girl.” Theon cooed, smiling at the little pup now beginning to snore while her eyes remained open and her gaze flirted around. He snorted and shook his head. “Little trickster. I know you’re not sleeping.” 

Robb's own lap puppy was squirming out of his lap, padding across the grass towards Ygritte. She scooped him up and kissed his nose, and his little tail wagged furiously. Grey Wind took advantage of Robb's free lap to climb into it, forcing as much of his massive body into it as he could. 

"Hey, Grey, you're too big! Come on, bud!" Robb was laughing, though, and he lay back in the grass so Grey Wind could lay on top of him.

Yellow got up just as quickly as she’d laid down, looked up at Theon, barked, then moved to chew at his shirt. He laughed and picked her up, one hand under her butt and the other under her belly, bringing her up to give her head a little smooch. She smacked his cheek before licking him, then barked again. 

“Noisy!” Theon grinned at her. 

"You must have your hands full with these guys," Robb said, laughing around Grey Wind. Ygritte rolled her eyes good-naturedly. 

"They're horrible little monsters, is what they are. Cute little shits, though," she said. 

"What she means is, we love them dearly," Jon said.

“You’d better. They’re your grandbabies.” Theon scolded, then burst out laughing again when the yellow girl tried to nip at his nose. “She’s not a monster! She’s just a silly little baby! Aren’t you, little lass? Just a silly baby?” 

She gave a throaty whine as though to agree, and latched onto his sleeve with her little teeth. She shook furiously, wagging her tail all the while, and braced her paws to tug at his sleeve. 

"No, Yellow!" Jon reprimanded. "Let go!"

“Silly! Silly girl!” Theon laughed, not minding at all as she began to tug and yank, her head turning as she did. He thought it was funny, and it wasn’t his best shirt anyway. “She needs a toy, that’s all! Right, girl?”

"They haven't plenty of toys," Jon said.

"Yeah, Jon just didn't bring any," Ygritte added. Jon turned to tell her that she didn't either, when she pulled a squeaky toy from her pocket. "Here, baby!" She squeaked the toy and instantly the puppies in the vicinity tumbled towards her, yipping excitedly.

“You stole my dog!” Theon gasped, scandalized, as Yellow hopped off him and ran over to Ygritte. Queenie, however, ignored the squeak and took the opportunity to hop up onto Theon’s lap herself. “Oh! Hi puffy lady.” 

Over by Rickon, the red-eyed puppy had sat down and gave a weak little howl. Shaggydog mirrored him, letting out that awful screech Rickon had taught him. The little puppy tried to copy him, and Rickon was beside himself with laughter.

Theon laughed, watching as the puppy and Shaggy went back and forth. The puppy seemed to very much like Shaggydog. Meanwhile, Green was clinging to his daddy like his life depended on it. Ghost had laid down, and the green-collared boy was snuggling up against him, trying to squirm his way under his chin. 

Queenie yipped, tipping her head back to look at Theon, so he leaned down and gave her a wee smooch on the nose. “A good girl.” He proclaimed. 

Soon enough, the back door was opening and Catelyn was poking her head out, calling them in for dinner. Jon and Ygritte set about gathering up the puppies while Rickon darted off inside. Robb helped Bran back into his electric wheelchair, and he powered himself forward up the porch ramp and inside. With the puppies corralled, the rest of them started heading inside. Robb and Theon caught up to each other, their shoulders bumping. Robb grabbed his hand. 

"It's been so long since I had mom's cooking," he whined, eagerly anticipating whatever she had made.

“It’ll be good. Delicious. It always is.” Theon grinned as he walked side-by-side with his fiancé, with Queenie following at their heels. 

It always was, of course, and Robb had gone so long without a proper homecooked meal, or any sort of real food at all, that the smell of it walking into the house was positively heavenly. He took his old seat with Theon beside him. Sansa and Margaery sat across, holding hands indiscreetly under the table, with Arya on Margaery's other side, making faces at Jon. He was playing back, pulling the same stupid faces, and Ygritte snickered at the two of them. In the other room, the puppies could be heard playing with the other wolfdogs and Queenie. 

The familiarity of the scene reaffirmed what Robb had been telling himself, and telling Theon, ever since their escape. They were home now, and all was right. He felt warm and safe, happier than he had felt in a while. Soon enough, there would be a new ring on Theon's finger and he could call him husband, and all of this would be in the past.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay is anyone even reading this anymore

Robb sat nervously on the edge of the couch. Dr. Varys sat in an armchair across from him, and he wasn't looking at Robb but he still felt scrutinized. Maybe it was the glasses perched at the end of his nose, or the way he marked stuff down as Robb spoke. He knew Theon was outside, though, and the thought calmed him. All they had done so far was a general introduction, and Varys was looking like he wanted to ask him more. Robb grimaced, dropping his gaze from Varys to his lap.

“I know this may be difficult for you, Mr. Stark. I’ve viewed the available medical records, and I now know what you told me just now. Is there anything specific on your mind, anything that’s been bothering you?” Varys tilted his head.

Robb didn't know exactly what to say. Just blurt it all out right up front? Talk about pieces of it until they had it all fleshed out? "I... I can't stomach touch, not really. Theon is fine, mostly, or my mother or sisters, but my brother Jon touched my side on accident yesterday and I—" He broke off, embarrassed. He hadn't freaked, not exactly, but he would never forget the look on Jon's face when he flinched away so violently.

Varys scribbled something down. “That’s not abnormal for survivors of sexual assault. I’m sure it’s something you may have noticed in others who’ve dealt with similar situations before. How’s it make you feel, when someone touches you and you react negatively?” 

"It's embarrassing. I don't mean to, it's just— Even with the doctors in the hospital, they would touch me and all I could feel was them..." Them, and their phantom hands all over him, touching and stroking wherever they could reach. Wherever they thought would hurt him, humiliate him the most. "And if some stranger touches me, even on accident, I have to try not to lash out."

Varys nodded, contemplating for a moment. “Is it only unexpected touches? Or do you have adverse reactions even when you see it coming?” 

"Kind of? It's easier, if I know. I can brace myself, and I'm still uncomfortable but it's not as bad." He shifted on the couch, scooting further back until he was leaned against the plush back cushion of the couch. "My sides or back are the worst. I can handle arm or shoulder. They never really grabbed me there. It was always my hips, and they wou— they would hold me down with a hand on my back, and I couldn't move. I was chained, and too weak. I—" He broke off again, and swallowed, averting his gaze.

Varys kept his expression neutral. “It’s okay, you don’t have to keep going. This room is one I want you to feel comfortable in. Anything you want to say, you can, but you will not be pressured to say anything you don’t. Take your time.” 

Robb took a deep breath and stared at the coffee table. There were papers scattered on it, none that he could read, but they were there and he could focus on them. If he stared at them, he could detach and speak as though speaking to himself. If he didn't look at Varys, he wouldn't see any emotion, any pity or judgement in his eyes, and maybe he wouldn't feel that gross prickle of shame that he felt whenever he tried to talk about it. 

"It's been two weeks? I think, since I've been home. Home from the hospital. And I can't do anything more than hug Theon, or kiss him. It's not the most important, I know, and he's so good and perfect. I know he's going through recovery too, and he did before, but he was different. It worked for him to reclaim himself and work through it, and I feel like I'm depriving him of that power now. But I can't bring myself to do anything."

“You’re not depriving anyone of anything by respecting your own boundaries. Is this something creating a strain in your relationship? The lack of... more?” 

"No! Of course not, Theon's patient. He understands, he does, I just don't think it's fair to him. Sometimes I wake up and his arms are around me, and I don't even remember where I am. And I only had it for a few weeks, he suffered for months last time, it's not fair for me to—" To be so weak now, not when Theon was suffering too. "I try, but it's so hard."

“What if he were in your position? If he was the one finding it unfair that he can’t go far with you? Would you say he was being too hard on himself?” 

"Of course, he..." Robb pursed his lips. "I would say that he needs time to recover. Pressuring him was out of the question, because nothing was more important than him being comfortable."

Varys nodded, his voice calm and gentle. “So why are you being so harsh with yourself then?”

"I don't know," he said after a long pause. He looked helplessly at Varys. "He dealt with this for so long, last time, but I'm the one who freaks at being touched."

“People cops in different ways. It’s normal to have adverse reactions to being touched. Someone else’s trauma lasting longer or seeming worse than your own does not invalidate yours. Does that make sense?” 

"Yeah..." Robb said slowly. He picked absentmindedly at a tear in his jeans, tugging a loose thread. "But I don't want to be— I want to get over it."

“Recovery is a process. It may not be easy.” Varys scribbled a few things down quick. “But it will be easier if you are kinder to yourself.” 

"Yeah?" He tugged one last time at the loose thread, yanking it free, and his hands settled in his lap. "So, I just tell myself that it's fine? To take my time?"

“Yes. Take your time, and know that it is okay. I’m sure Theon understands- really, I know he will understand. Treat yourself kindly, patiently.” Varys nodded. 

Robb nodded, thinking on that for a moment. Then he spoke again, a new edge of nerves in his voice. "There's something else, too. When I was there, when Ramsay had me, I had nightmares. A lot. And I'm still having them, they won't go away."

“That’s also not unusual. When you wake up from these nightmares, what do you normally do then?” 

"Look for Theon. And my dog, Grey Wind. They're always in them, and Grey always dies. Ramsay always kills him, and he takes Theon away and I'm just there, alone."

“But they’re always there when you wake up, correct? Theon, and Grey Wind? It’s good that you try to ground yourself, that’s very good. Bring yourself back to reality.” 

"They're always there," Robb agreed. "I hate leaving Grey behind when we go anywhere, and I can barely let Theon out of my sight, though."

“Have you gotten new phones?” Varys asked. He had heard plenty about their capture from Theon. “If not, you should. You could set times to check in with each other when you’re not together? And for the dog, have you considered cameras in the house?” 

"We do have new phones... And no, I didn't even think about that." A pet cam. It was so obvious, why hadn't he thought of it?

“Do you think that would help you, a pet surveillance camera?” Varys placed an arm on the armrest, leaving his notepad to balance on his lap. 

"Yeah, if I can see him. I know it's irrational, Ramsay's dead, but still... If I can see him, I know he's safe. And I usually am with Theon, but when he's at work..."

“When he’s at work, are you able to text him? As I said before, you could set times to check in?” 

"Yeah! He's been working more, and I'm always on campus trying to get caught up on everything so I don't fail my finals. But our breaks coincide so we can have lunch together," Robb replied.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but he signed a waiver allowing me to disclose his information from his sessions with you.” Varys informed him, scribbling a couple things down as he did. “So lunch together, that’s good. And you still do the driving, correct?” 

"Now, yeah," Robb said. "I was shot in the leg, though, when we were taken. I was only recently cleared, so before that we would carpool with people, or my mother or sister would drive us."

“I know Theon- ahem, sorry,” Varys cleared his throat, “I’m aware he doesn’t know how to drive, or want to learn. The driving isn’t an issue for you, is it?” 

"No, of course not! I mean, it would help sometimes, but he doesn't want to. If he ever does, I'll be happy to support him, but until then I don't mind driving."

“I recall him once looking me in the eye when I asked him about driving once, and he said ‘Varys. I am gay. I can’t drive,’.” Varys smiled a little bit, showing he was amused at the memory. “He’s a fine boy, your fiancé. Any problems or worried you have regarding him, I’d advise you talk to him as well. He’ll understand.” 

"He is great." Robb grew a fond smile. "I love him. And I know I don't really have anything to worry about now, so it's irrational, but I can't help it."

“Your worries make sense in regard to your experiences. And it’s healthy to share them aloud, with yourself and loved ones, if you desire. You fear for your fiancé, who has already been stolen away and abused more than once. It’s reasonable to be worried.” 

"I just want to protect him, so nothing can ever hurt him again. But that's illogical, right?" Robb let out a soft sigh and looked down. "I just keep reminding myself, and him, that Ramsay is dead."

“Good. Is there anything else that could make you feel safer? Anything else that makes you worry?” Varys glanced at the clock. There was still a fair amount of time. 

Robb thought it over for a minute. Touch, Grey Wind and Theon's safety... His and Theon's utter codependence on each other, that hadn't been mentioned, but... Theon had probably brought that up in his own sessions. And it wasn't a bad thing, in Robb's eyes, to rely on somebody you trusted and loved as much as they did. Or there was the prickling notion of a fear that Theon would realize he didn't love Robb and much as he had thought, that he would leave him, but Robb knew that to be irrational. He had never had anybody look at him like Theon did, like Robb himself had breathed life through Theon's veins and light into the stars. 

"No," he said finally. "Nothing that I can think of right now."

“Well, we still have some time left. Your fiancé has a session right after yours. I won’t share what you’ve told me with him, unless you want me to, in which case I’d have to have you sign a waiver form.” 

Robb had to think again. It was only fair to do so, since Theon had, and he didn't like to keep secrets from Theon. But on the other hand, did he want Theon to know how bad his sudden phobia was? He grit his teeth, wilted, and let out a tiny sigh. "Yeah, I'll sign it. He deserves to know."

Varys nodded, rolled his chair back to his desk, and dug around a moment before producing a paper and a clipboard. “Obviously I won’t be listing off everything you tell me,” He explained, handing them to Robb, “But I can mention things if needed.” 

Robb skimmed it over, signing where he needed to, and handed the paper back to Varys. "I've never done therapy before," he said. "All I know of it is from Theon or TV shows, and I'm not calling TV accurate. So what... I mean, with my problem, what can we do?"

“I’m a psychologist, not a psychiatrist, so I’m not authorized to prescribe you any medication. If you’re considering any, it would be best to go to the front desk and make an appointment with the psychiatrist after you and I are finished. I would definitely wager to say you have post traumatic stress disorder stemming from your abuse. Obviously you underwent a serious amount of traumatizing events in a short period of time. Nightmares, adverse physical reactions, emotional distress... the self blame, the worry, the anxieties... yes, I’d not diagnose you yet, but it does seem you are suffering from PTSD.” 

"Oh," Robb said, biting at his lip. "Would medication stop the nightmares? I'm just... I'm sick of losing them over and over again, almost every night." At this point, after weeks of them, he would be willing to make an appointment with just about anybody to stop the nightmares.

“It could. You’d have to talk more with the psychiatrist about that, though.” He glanced at the clock again. “It seems we’re basically out of time. Was there anything else you needed to talk about before the session ends?” 

"No, I think that's all. Thank you," he murmured, rising off the couch. "Should I go get Theon for his session, then?"

“That would be lovely, yes. Thank you.” Varys smiled, standing as well to guide Robb to the door. “You can send him right up.”

When Robb reached the waiting room, Theon was playing on his phone, scrolling on RavenOnline, but he looked up at the sound of Robb approaching. He smiled his crooked little smile. “How was it, love?” 

"Good, I guess. He suggested a psychiatrist." Robb shrugged and grabbed Theon's hand, helping him up. "He's ready for you, now. Want a kiss for good luck?" Theon had done that for him, before Robb had gone in.

“Yes please.” Theon agreed. He giggled softly into the kiss before he pulled away, placing another kiss on Robb’s cheek just because. “Alright, baby. I’ll see you soon.” Another kiss, he couldn’t help it, and then he headed upstairs. 

Theon walked straight on in, and Varys was so used to this that he didn't even look up from his papers. "Take a seat, Theon. I'm just filing away Robb's papers, give me one moment." He straightened them up after one last cursory glance, slipped them into a file folder, and placed it in the filing cabinet. He looked up, folding his hands in his lap, and Theon was sitting on the couch staring expectantly at him.

“Um... hi?” Theon grinned awkwardly. “How was Robb?” Then, upon realizing it was possibly all confidential, “Sorry. How are you?” 

"I am well, but we're here to discuss you." Varys offered a pleasant little smile with a hint of humor. "As for Robb... He signed a release, and you are free to inquire after him."

“Is he okay?” Theon instantly blurted out. “He’s been having nightmares, I know he has. I do too, but I- I know how to hide them. I used to wake him up all the time with them, but I’ve gotten better. But I notice, when he has them. He- he doesn’t like to talk about them much. I’m worried he’s disgusted with me... I know he’s not, but I worry if he’s okay.” 

"He's not disgusted with you," Varys assured him. "His nightmares primarily involve losing you, and his dog. The deal with you, Theon, is that you have been through this before. And, forgive me for saying this, but this second round was easier, because Ramsay seemed to cherish you this time. Was it not?"

“He... I guess.” Theon nodded slowly. “He only hit me once, I think, but it- it was scary. I never knew what would set him off, a-and he’d take out his anger on Robb so he wouldn’t end up hurting me. I don’t want Robb to think I betrayed him.” 

"I've only had the one session with him so far, but I don't get that impression. That aside, how are you doing, Theon? It's been..." He trailed off, perusing the file in front of him. "Oh, two weeks to the day since I've seen you last."

“I’ve been okay. Working plenty. I-uh- I still... I feel guilty. About Robb, of course, and- and about Ramsay. I never wanted... I never wanted him to die. And I don’t miss him, but I feel bad, and I feel bad for feeling bad.” 

"It's not unusual to feel guilty," Varys said. "You are a good person, Theon, and as terrible a person as Ramsay was, he was still a human being. Watching somebody die, regardless of who they are or what they have done, can be deeply traumatizing. Especially when that person has had such an impact on you."

“He could’ve been good. He could have, he just-“ Theon stopped, let out a disbelieving little laugh. “I’m defending him. I- fuck- sorry, I shouldn’t. After everything he did. He is terrible. Even if he could’ve been different, he wasn’t.” 

"Everybody has the potential to be good. People make choices, and they lead themselves further down these paths, which could either be good or bad. The thing is, there aren't only two paths a person can take. There are countless, all forking and intertwining with one another. Ramsay ended up on a very bad, very dark path due to the choices he made, and he has dragged his friends down along with him. From the sounds of it, a couple of them have been seeking a new path? And you.

"He tried to drag you down as well, but you fought him, because you have fought to make yourself a good person. And Theon? You sit here, talking to me, trying to defend this horrible person who did horrible things to you, because you saw the potential in him. How many other people saw that in him, do you think? You wonder why he loved you so much, don't you? I think that's why. You looked at him, and you saw him. Because you are an innately good person, Theon," Varys finished.

Theon sniffled, eyes wet, looking down at his lap. Ramsay did love him. He did, and he died for it. Even if it wasn’t Theon’s fault, even if he deserved to die... “He died for me, because of me. I- I know he’s bad, I know he did horrible things. I know. I just... I feel horrid about it.” 

"Yes, and that's what we're here to work on," Varys said. "Now, why do you say he died for you? I'm curious."

“He came for me. When- when Yellow Dick was stabbed or whatever, Ramsay could’ve run out with all the other boys. But he- he wouldn’t go without me. So he didn’t run. So he- he didn’t make it out.” 

Varys tapped his pen in thought. Most victims would consider this a lucky break, their abuser finally being cut down in their own folly. It did make sense to him, though, for Theon to be taking this train of thought. "He lost his life in a moment of his own weakness, because he was unable to grasp the fact that you no longer loved him," he said.

“I watched him die.” Theon choked out. “I held his hand as he died. And my sister, and Sansa, they- they had to kill because of me. They’re not killers, they’re good people.” 

"Good people have to do terrible things for the sake of good, sometimes. For you, that was letting him die. For them, it was all to save you. And the court ruled them both as self defense, did it not?"

“Yeah... but they still have to live knowing they killed someone.” Theon sighed, moving to rest his knees on his thighs and head in his hands. “Because of me.” 

Varys had actually seen Sansa about this, only for two sessions, but she hadn't wanted anybody to know, so he couldn't ease Theon's worries with the fact. He tapped his pen again, a mindless habit, before scribbling something down on his notes. "They do have the peace of mind knowing that you are safe, however."

“I guess so.” Theon sighed, looking down at his shoes. 

After a moment of silence, Varys began speaking to him again. It went about as smoothly as a therapy session for someone who’d undergone severe amounts of physical and mental trauma could, and while Theon was shaky by the time it ended, he still felt a little better than he had before. He met Robb- who had made his psychiatrist appointment while Theon was in session- in the waiting room, and they walked out to the car hand in hand, in a comfortable sort of silence as they crossed the parking lot. Theon talked a little on the drive home, but fell asleep in the passenger seat when they were halfway there. 

Robb carried him inside and set him in bed, with a soft kiss on the cheek, before settling down with him and a book, the two dogs joining them. Queenie pushed and curled up against Theon, causing him to stir but not fully wake. Theon was warm and happy and home, and Robb had the two he worried about most within sight. They were all safe, and they were all home.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a day late. But both of us have lost a lot of motivation due to a near complete and utter lack of feedback, and so I forgot to post. 
> 
> Of course, there are about three or four of you who comment and support us consistently and we appreciate you so much for that. But we know there’s more than just those people reading, based on hit counts, kudos, etc. and it’s very hurtful to see so many people are consuming our work without leaving any feedback at all, constructive or critical or complimentary. We write and post this for free for people to enjoy, and it’s no longer really enjoyable for us to write and post this with such a near total lack of feedback. -M

In the days since their rescue, and Robb's subsequent hospital stay, water had been a sort of delicacy. But it had been weeks now, and Robb was sipping water not to sooth his raw throat, but merely to give himself something to do. Theon had a glass too, but it had gone ignored for so long that the condensation was a thick sheen on the outside of the glass, pooling on the table around it. Theon was poring over a massive binder with Sansa on his other side, both their heads together in thought. 

"Hey, Robb?" Sansa asked. "White or gold?" 

"Is silver an option?" he grumbled, peering around Theon's arm to try and see what they were even looking at.

“I don’t want too much white, remember? Mainly grey and gold. I’ll be wearing a black tux, maybe with some gold accents, and it’ll likely have white underneath. I’m hoping for a subtly embroidered tux jacket, you know? Or an embroidered vest? I want to look real fancy, very regal.” Theon nodded slowly, then pointed at the white swatch of the centerpieces Sansa was looking at. “That in white looks kinda tacky.”

"Oh..." Sansa pouted. "I kind of liked it. Do you like it in gold, then?"

Robb had given up on trying to see around Theon and sat back in his chair, swirling the ice in his glass. Grey Wind sat up at his side, shoving his nose under Robb's arm, seeking pats.

Theon felt bad for possibly hurting Sansa’s feelings, but it was his wedding after all... he had to be honest. “It’s okay, but, I think we could find something better. We have grey tablecloths, right? I feel like candles and flowers are too cliche.” 

Sansa leafed through the binder, pursing her lips. "We could look for a company to custom order some... Gray wolves and golden krakens? Does that sound okay?"

“Eh... I don’t know. Let’s keep looking?” He watched as she flipped the pages, and huffed in annoyance. “It’s all his and hers in the example photos. No his and his, Mr. and Mr.” 

"I guess that would have to be custom ordered, too," Sansa said with a hint of disappointment. She flipped the page again, cruising past high-color photos of flower arrangements that Theon wouldn't like, and came to a stop when red leaves caught her eye. "Hey— what about this?" she asked, pushing the binder towards Theon. "Robb, do you like this?"

“Is that Weirwood branches?” Theon shifted to the side to give Robb a better view of the binder. “That would be cute. But very Northern. I do want a touch of the sea as well.” 

"You could do these on some tables, and a sort of driftwood arrangement on others?" Sansa leafed through the pages searching for such an arrangement while Robb murmured his approval of the idea. He really liked the little weirwood branches.

“Robb, use your words, love.” Theon turned to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’ve been quiet. Are you okay?” 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just listening to your ideas, Thee." Truthfully, he didn't have a huge preference to what they did. Theon seemed to have great ideals for their wedding, and he was content to sit back and let him nitpick over the details.

“Alright, but if you need anything , let me know.” Theon said before turning back to the book. “Okay, so we’ve got centerpieces pretty much figured out. What’s next?” 

"Do you have a location already in mind?" Sansa asked, turning to that designated section in her binder. She had put it together, with her mother's help, shortly after they announced their engagement.

“Near the ocean? We could have the ceremony outside?” Theon glanced back over to Robb. “And Queenie And Grey Wind would be there, of course. I would want a more... I don’t know. A beach near a forest? Not like some tourist beach. Somewhere more secluded, y’know?” 

"Yeah, of course. There's the Saltcliffe beaches? ...I don't know a whole lot of private beaches, sorry," Sansa admitted after thinking for a minute. "Robb?"

"Me either," he said. "Saltcliffe, or Old Wyk. I imagine Great Wyk would be more populated."

“Any of the Iron Island beaches are out.” Theon said. “I don’t want to go to those miserable places. Stormy, no trees... there’s a reason my family moved away from the islands before I was born.” 

The Stark family had never been much for beach trips, so Robb and Sansa were both at a loss. "Do you know any that would work?" Robb asked, while Sansa nibbled her lip and searched through her binder for suitable locations.

“We can just find a beach on the coast on the north.” Theon shrugged. “Doesn’t need to be a famous beach or anything.” He reached out to stop her flipping through the laminated pages. “Let’s figure our groomsmen and bridesmaids, okay?” 

"Jon's my best man," Robb said immediately. "Sorry if you wanted him. He's my brother, though. So I have dibs."

“Jon is our best man, dumby.” Theon playfully nudged him with his elbow. “Not just yours. And Sansa can be maid of honor. And Yara- oh shit. What’s Yara?”

"Yara can be.... Well, I can't see her wanted to be called a groomsmaid... Second best man? Sansa, can we do that?" 

Sansa, still beaming over being chosen as maid of honor, shrugged uncaringly. "Who cares? There aren't really set rules like that for weddings."

“I don’t think she’d like the title of second... we can come back to the Yara issue later.” Theon decided. “For bridesmaids, though- or grooms maids, whatever- I want the Jeynes. And we have to have Tormund as a brides man too. And- oh! Ygritte needs to be a bridesmaid.” 

"Technically it would be a groomsmaid?" Robb said, tilting his head. "Right? We're both grooms." He did like the idea of having Tormund and Ygritte, though. 

Sansa shrugged. "I don't think it matters, Robb."

“Grooms men, grooms maids, whatever. Tormund, Ygritte, And Jeyne Squared are all included.” Theon waved a hand dismissively. “And the wolves, of course. Queenie is flower girl and Grey Wind is ring bearer, though.” 

"We already agreed on that," Robb pointed out. He had already picked out an outfit for Grey Wind to wear, a handsome tuxedo top made for dogs, complete with a sleek gray tie.

Queenie would be simply too fluffy for any outfits, so Theon had already picked out a pretty new collar for her for the wedding. Other than that, she would be naked. As if she’d somehow heard her name from the other room, she came trotting in, stopping at Theon’s feet and barking at him. He laughed and picked her up, setting her on his lap. 

“It will be quite the dog friendly affair.” 

"We're having the other dogs too, right? Of course we are," Robb said, not waiting for an answer. "Um.... Jeez, it would help if we actually had friends." He talked to a fair amount of people at college, but didn't have many close friends.

“Dany will be there, because of Yara.” Theon offered. “And Margaery for Sansa. And me, she’s my friend. I can invite the Dothraki gals from work.”

"That works. Cley Cerwyn, I want to invite him," Robb said. The Cerwyns were old family friends, and he and Cley had grown up together.

“Officer Tarth? She may not be able to come, but she’s a badass and I like her. I at least want to invite her.” Brienne had devoted a lot of time to their cases, Theon knew. She was a sweetheart too, a softie at heart, and he’d like her to know they didn’t forget about her. He paused for a minute, seeming to grow somber. “And... I want a seat reserved for my mama. I know... if she were here, I know she’d want to come. I want a seat reserved, right up front, just for her.” 

Sansa, who had been merrily writing down all these names, let her pen droop to the table as she lifted her head and gave Theon a sympathetic look. Robb was nodding in agreement, biting at his lip. 

"My dad, too. I want a seat for my dad, next to Mom's."

“Maybe I’ll get a picture for her to put on the seat? And you can do that for Ned?” Theon shrugged, looking over at Robb with a soft smile. “Drowned God, I love you, Robb.” 

"And we'll have them right up front," Robb agreed. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Theon's cheek. "I love you too." 

Sansa was writing this idea down too, a soft little smile on her lips. "Do you guys know when exactly you want to have it? Any dates?"

“Winter?” Theon glanced over at Robb. “Winter. You little snowy wolves would like that, I think. Especially Jon. He can wear his coat to the wedding.” 

Robb laughed. "We all might have to. Winter wedding on the beach? I love the idea, though. Sansa, can you-?" She was already marking it down though, and making a note to look for beaches open in the winter, preferably those that wouldn't get too cold.

“It will be romantic. And only the ceremony would be outside, dinner and the reception and everything is inside. It will be beautiful. Just like you.” Theon winked. “The wolves will like it too, they love snow and shit like that.” 

"We'll have some wet and smelly dogs," Robb said, but it would be worth it. He could imagine it like that, Theon in his black and gold tux, with snowflakes falling in his hair. Robb would brush them off his shoulder, could cup his cheek and kiss him when it was time.

“No! They won’t get wet and smelly!” He gave Robb a look. “Don’t say that. Your Grey Wind might get stinky, but not my dog... wet and smelly. Hmph.” 

"Queenie has more fur than Grey Wind, she'll be twice as stinky! You should get her some doggie booties, to keep her feet warm at least."

Theon gasped, affronted. “Of course I’ll give her doggie booties! She already has multiple pairs! I’ll just get her some gold ones for the wedding!” He clutched the Pomeranian to his chest. “She will not be stinky! She is never stinky!” 

Robb leaned over and scooped her from Theon's arms, bringing her closer to his own face. He sniffed, and Queenie squirmed in dismay, her little paws pushing on Robb's face. "Yup. Stinky! Stinky girl!"

“No!” Theon wailed. “No! She’s not, she’s not! Stop that! Give her back!” He snatched back his little ball of fluff, clutching her protectively against him and pouting at Robb. 

Sansa was laughing, watching the two of them, cheeks flushed pink with amusement. “I’m sure she smells fine, Theon.” 

"You didn't sniff her. She smells like old wet food, probably cause Theon didn't brush her teeth this morning." 

"You brush their teeth?" Sansa asked, now feeling guilty. Should she have been brushing Lady's teeth all this time?

Theon’s lower lip wobbled, and he looked as if he genuinely might cry. “She doesn’t need them brushed every day! Stop being mean to her!” 

Robb immediately felt bad. He reached out to give Queenie an apology pat. Queenie had already forgotten what had happened, and she happily licked his hand. "Sorry, Thee. Still wanna marry me?"

Theon laughed softly, giving Queenie’s head a soft little smooch. “Of course I do, you goof. I’m just playing with you. My little princess doesn’t even care, see?” Queenie licked his hand again, and began straining to try and get to Robb’s face. 

"Calm down, Queenie," Robb said, ruffling her fur. "You'll wiggle free and fall! Are you gonna dress her up, or just give her some booties, Thee?"

“Booties and the pretty little collar I talked about.” He leaned over so Queenie could give Robb some face kisses before she settled back down in his lap. “She has so much fluff. I can’t put her in a dress.” 

Sansa giggled. "Yeah, she would look kind of weird. All that fluff bulging out under the fabric." Robb pictured it, and agreed. 

"Yeah, maybe just a collar for her."

Theon laughed. “That’s what I said! Just a collar and her little booties. And she’ll be carrying the flower girl basket. Such a good little girl she is.” He gave her another small smooch, and earned a flurry of doggie kisses all over his face in return. 

"Oh! Grey Wind needs something to carry the rings on. Think he could hold a pillow straight, or should we get him a little basket too?" Grey Wind was asleep in the other room, but Robb didn't bother calling him. He didn't have a small pillow to test out.

“A pillow in a basket. Just to be safe.” Theon suggested, stroking Queenie’s fur gently as she moved to curl up in a fuzzy ball in his lap. “Queenie’s basket needs to be overflowing with flower petals so she can flail them everywhere.” 

With the way Queenie toddled along, it would be very easy for her to flail petals about, but Robb didn't say that. Theon was sensitive. "Do you have a section in there for that?" he asked Sansa. "Basket and pillows?"

"Yeah, of course." Sansa flipped to the appropriate section and nudged the binder towards Robb and Theon.

“I’m so excited, Robb! She’s gonna be so! Damn! Cute!” Theon lit up, looking at the little baskets and stopping on a grey wood basket. “That will do. Simple. We can get all sorts of pretty flowers for my little girl to carry down the aisle.” 

"Snowdrop, or sea thrift! Or cranes-bill," Sansa suggested, eyes lighting up. "We could do a gorgeous mix of color, if you'd like. Sea thrift is mostly pink and snowdrop is white, but cranes-bill can be super colorful."

Theon glanced over to Robb, and they exchanged looks. Neither man had any idea what the names of flowers were. “Yeah, okay.” Theon agreed, nodding. “Sounds good. I’ll trust you with the, uh, the flower stuff.” 

"Okay," she said cheerily, jotting down her ideas. "Do you like gold velvet for the ring pillow? It would look pretty in the gray basket."

"Yeah, that works for me," Robb said.

“Me too.” Theon nodded. “Sansa, you’re so smart. I should just let you plan the whole thing.” He teased, but then moved back to look at the binder with her. They barely got two more pages in before Sansa’s phone rang, and she was shoving her things in a bag in a hurry. 

“Lady’s grooming is done! Goodness, I lost track of time! I have to go get her! Love you two, bye!” She rushed, giving them each a kiss on the cheek before running out the door. 

Theon glanced at Robb, amused. “Guess we should work on the guest list now then, huh?”


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to post on time again sorry y’all

Theon had, reasonably, been avoiding sex. But lately, he’d been waking up hot and sweaty and hard, or with a sticky mess in his boxers from some sort of wet dream. He was horny. He missed sleeping with his fiancé, being wrapped in those strong arms as Robb’s thick cock stretched him open, kissing his fluffy lips as they both moaned, the feeling of his fiancé coming inside him... 

He was so horny. His hands were fine, and dildos were nice, but it felt weird sneaking around to masturbate when Robb wasn’t home so as to not disturb him. Some time had passed, and Robb didn’t seem to be startled by Theon’s touches. They kissed fairly often, hugged plenty... of course, if Robb didn’t want something, Theon would back off immediately, but... it was worth a shot. 

He waited until the evening, after they’d both eaten a good sized dinner and Robb was relaxing in bed as Theon insisted, while Theon did the dishes. He was doing more than just dishes, though. He finished them quickly and then moved to the bathroom, washing his hands and cleaning up his face a bit before stripping down to his briefs. He looked good, not super muscular or anything, but fairly toned while still soft around the edges. He had a nice body- a great body, really, he could admit that. After admiring himself in the mirror for a moment, and thinking about how good it would feel to be naked and riding Robb’s cock once again, he left the bathroom and headed toward the bedroom. 

Robb had the door open and was laid atop the blankets, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. He was wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt he’d put on once he’d gotten home from classes, and looked absolutely mouth watering even in such a lazy outfit. Theon walked into the room, smiling seductively at his fiancé as he approached the bed, lowering his voice to a purr. 

“Hi, baby.” He lifted a leg, moved onto the bed to straddle Robb. “My handsome fiancé.” 

Robb tossed his phone aside in favor of smiling up at Theon. "Could say the same to you," he murmured, resting a hand on the dip of Theon's waist. "All dressed down? What's the occasion?" It was easy to slip into the same old playful flirting as before, even though they hadn't done anything since before the kidnap. It was comforting in a way, too; a sense of normalcy that they didn't always have now.

“No occasion. Just wanted to see you.” Theon smiled, rolled his hips, already semi-hard from just thinking about him in the bathroom. “My fiancé. My handsome boy.” 

Robb stiffened surreptitiously at the movement, and tried to force himself to calm down. Oh. This was it, then. Theon was ready, and Robb would just have to try to bite the bullet and keep up. "You're seeing me," he said slowly, still inflicting the same playful tone into his voice. "Now what?"

Theon thought he noticed something odd, but then the playful tone was back, and so was that teasing little expression. His grin widened as he looked down at him, a little jolt of arousal in his gut. “I’ve missed you. Missed this little thing.” He rolled his hips again, grinding himself down against the bulge of Robb’s cock- still soft, but the outline visible in his stupid grey sweatpants. 

Robb was fine. He told himself that, and thought he was convincing himself of that, and even managed to grind his hips up a little. Then Theon leaned down, hands fumbling for the waistband of his sweatpants, and as they slid down inch by inch, Robb's whole body tensed up. He hadn't been naked with anybody since then, and though logically he knew it was Theon, his brain superimposed Luton's sneering face over Theon's. The lean bodies were almost the same in weight and build, and Robb drew in a shuddering breath.

Now Theon definitely noticed something odd. He stopped immediately, leaving Robb’s sweatpants halfway down his thighs, his grin having very quickly turned into a concerned frown. 

His first thought was Robb didn’t want him. Robb was disgusted. Robb saw him and remembered how Theon had come around Ramsay’s cock. Then, he took a moment and thought, no, that wasn’t it, he knew it wasn’t. Robb just didn’t want to have sex, probably. And that was fine and normal. It wasn’t a matter of disgust. He swallowed thickly. 

“Robb...? Baby? Are you okay?” 

Theon's voice, coming from Luton's face, Luton's chapped lips. Robb breathed again, wiggling out from underneath Theon to retreat across the bed. He pulled his sweatpants back up. "Yeah," he said, staring at Theon—because he was Theon again, not Luton, not any of then—and trying to convince himself of the fact. "I'm okay. I'm alright. Just got... nervous for sec."

Theon moved as well, sitting criss-cross on his own side of the bed, looking away as if it were inappropriate to see Robb with his pants down. He only looked back when he was sure they were up. “We don’t- we don’t have to do anything.” 

"That's not fair," Robb protested. "You... You need to recover too. This works for you. I'm just.... I'm really sorry, Thee. I want to try, I do, I just..." Couldn't picture anything else than them. Couldn't feel anything other than their hands on him, reaching and grabbing him anywhere they could. Could barely touch his own penis without feeling their phantom grip yanking at it, trying to force him to cum while they took turns raping him.

“I- it doesn’t work for me if you don’t want it. It doesn’t work if I’m- if I’m raping you.” The word tasted filthy on Theon’s tongue, made him feel gross. He’d climbed on top of Robb, had been grinding against him, hadn’t even asked or talked about it first... if he hadn’t noticed Robb’s reaction... “We don’t need to, baby. I’m sorry.” 

Robb chewed his lip. Lately, it felt as though he was going to chew right though it. "If we don't, who's to say..." That they ever would again? "When? It's better to just try, isn't it? And if I can't handle it... I'm sorry."

“I couldn’t even get your pants off. We’re not trying.” Theon laughed weakly, but it wasn’t funny. He didn’t want Robb to be uncomfortable, to be scared, to be... disgusted. “We can wait. As long as you need. And if-“ _If it’s because of me, if you could do it with someone else,_ he thought, but didn’t say. “We- I can wait.” 

Everything Varys had told Robb fled his mind. He wasn't good enough for Theon. Theon deserved better, somebody who could actually handle a lascivious touch, and Robb couldn't. Not right now. It wasn't fair to him, wasn't fair to deny him like this and make him wait indefinitely while Robb tried to sort out his own inner turmoil. Theon's touch was good, he knew that, but it didn't stop him from flinching away. 

"I'm sorry," he said pathetically.

“No, it’s okay.” Theon’s voice was soft, quiet. He felt ashamed, disgusting... he’d upset Robb. He’d upset his fiancé, made him uncomfortable. “I- do- it’s okay. Is it- is it me?” The question was hard to ask, but he had to. He had to ask it, had to know if it was him. Deep down he knew it wasn’t, Robb wasn’t repulsed by him, yet... 

"No. It's not you." It's me, he almost said, but that was a shitty breakup line. Even if it was true. Robb scooted forward on his knees, grabbing Theon by the shoulders and pulling him into a hug. "Never you. You're perfect, Thee."

“I just- I- I want you to be happy, to feel good, and if- if you could with some- if- someone- I- I just want you happy-“ Theon managed, practically melting in Robb’s arms. If Robb could have sex with someone else, if he could feel good with someone else, if it was just Theon he couldn’t be with intimately... Theon was ready to deal with it. He would. He’d do anything for his fiancé. 

"Somebody else?" Robb shuddered at the thought. "Thee, I don't think— I don't think I ever could again." Theon was safe, Theon was his, and he was all he needed. All he wanted.

Theon nodded slowly. “I just- because what you saw- what I did- I betrayed you, I- I’m sorry.” He blabbered, feeling worse the moment he said it. Drowned God, Robb was upset, and here Theon was, making it about himself. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the nasty little thoughts in his head. “I just want you happy.” 

"What I saw, was you being raped. How could I blame you for that?" Robb would have to be a hell of a hypocrite to do that. "Ramsay forced you to watch while he raped you, and forced you to orgasm. That's not your fault."

Theon squirmed a little, uncomfortable. “I-I agreed to. I agreed to have- to have sex with him, sometimes, I- I said yes.” In order to see Robb. That was always the bargain. Sex in exchange for seeing Robb. Holding back tears and whimpers of pain and shame as Ramsay fucked him, all for just a few seconds with Robb. 

Robb shook his head. "No, that's not consenting, Thee, that's manipulation. Extortion." He brushed his lips over Theon's cheek, something he could do for him.

“I’m sorry, Robb. I’m sorry. I should’ve- we should’ve talked about it before I came in. I’m sorry.” Theon looked down at his lap. “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean to freak you out.” 

"It's okay," he said, and it almost was. "I'm sorry I can't... Do anything, right now. I am trying. I'm sorry, Thee."

“No, that’s not- no! You’re not- it’s not your fault, Robb. Please don’t think that. Please. I want you to be safe, and comfortable, a-and happy. Please, don’t blame yourself. You’re recovering. I know. I should’ve known.” 

"Can we agree that we're both stupid, and it's nobodies fault?" Robb tried, leaning back away from him. He uncrossed his legs and slumped back against the pillows, patting the ones beside him.

“You’re not stupid.” Theon argued, moving hesitantly to sit back next to Robb. His belly was twisting and tying itself in knots, feeling shame and guilt and disgust with himself, but he needed to stop making it about him. It wasn’t all about him. He wanted to burrow in under the blankets and hide there for the rest of his life. 

Robb wrapped his arm around Theon, pulling him in. "Can't do much, but we can cuddle. Right?" He kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose.

“Of course, love. Of course. I just wanna shower first, then. So we can get settled down? Does that sound alright?” Theon glanced over at him. 

"Sounds perfect." He watched Theon get up and head off to shower, and when he was alone Robb pulled a pillow to his chest and squeezed it. He was useless, pathetic. He couldn't even bring himself to sleep with his fiance, or even just touch him how he obviously needed to be touched.

Once the bathroom door was closed, Theon finally let out the shaky breath he’d been holding and let himself kneel on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, hands resting on his thighs. He was filthy, foul, disgusting. He’d made Robb feel more than just uncomfortable, he’d made him scared, he’d caused the person he loved most to be scared. And then, in true Theon fashion, he’d made it all about himself. He was stupid and selfish and gross, and he wanted to peel off his skin and just hide. Self hatred bubbled in the pit of his stomach, tears stinging the backs of his eyes. Always so selfish, so self-centered, always making everything about him. He’d always done that. It was something his father had hated. Spoiled, arrogant brat, his father used to call him. If he cried for his mother, he was selfish. He was making her trauma about him. It was one of his worst qualities, his selfishness, and yet it never went away. Ever. And it showed, it showed in how he’d just come onto Robb without a care in the world, without a second thought to his fiancés comfort.

He didn’t notice he was clawing at himself until he felt something warm oozing against his knuckles, and only then did he look down and feel the dull throb of pain as he saw his fingers curled up, nails digging into the skin of his thighs. He took a sharp breath at the sight and closed his eyes, fighting back the sound as a heavy sob shook his body. Robb would be so sad. He’d find out, he’d see the scratches, he’d blame himself when it wasn’t his fault at all. When it was Theon’s for not thinking, for being so selfish and fucked up and for finding some sort of relief in clawing at himself to avoid panicking. 

He felt so sick, sick to his stomach. How was he better than Ramsay? How, when he had gone right in without asking for consent? That was what Ramsay did. Came in, crawled into bed with him, whispered sweet words and pushed at all the right places while Theon cried silently and wished he’d just stop. Theon didn’t always outright say no, just like Robb hadn’t. So how was he any better than Ramsay? He wasn’t, he wasn’t better, that was why Ramsay had loved him, and the thought only made him sicker as he continued to let his nails scratch at his skin. 

He should’ve been out comforting Robb, not hiding in the bathroom like he was, he knew it. He was being stupid and self centered again. He stood on shaky legs, stumbled over to turn on the shower so as to not cause Robb to worry. He climbed in, closed the curtain, and finally let out a loud sob with the sound of running water to cover it. He moved his hands to brace himself against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. The stubs of his two fingers ached, his old scars ached, and the name under his tattoo itched. Ramsay. Ramsay. Ramsay. Written on his skin. Hidden, but still there. Covered by beautiful art, and yet Theon sobbed as he held back from scraping at the skin with the scarred letters drawn across it. He was bad, he was so bad, he’d hurt his fiancé and now of course it was all about him, he had to make it about him, stupid Theon... he felt worse for crying, felt sick with guilt for feeling sick, felt horrible for feeling horrible. He shouldn’t be the one hiding away crying. This was his fault, his stupid fault. He hated himself for breaking down like this, but he couldn’t stop. 

He cranked the water up to a higher temperature, soaked in the heat. Robb deserved better. He always had. Nothing would’ve ever happened to him if not for Theon. All the trauma he’d undergone never would’ve happened if not for Theon. Since the first day Theon stepped into Robb’s life- from that first time Robb offered half his lunch to the boy who never had anything to eat in elementary school- Theon had brought nothing but trouble. Robb would’ve been better off with anyone other than Theon Greyjoy, who was broken even before Ramsay got his hands on him. 

It took a while, but Theon managed to calm himself. He cleaned his hair and body and face, dried off with a fluffy towel, spent time to let the redness around his eyes recede. He took his bathrobe off the hook on the back of the door. It was fluffy and black and reached to his knees. He tied the strip of fabric around his waist to keep it shut, went through his nightly hair care routine, put some moisturizer on his face, and then finally left the bathroom. 

His bare feet made soft pit-pat sounds as he headed back to the room, Queenie seemingly coming from nowhere and falling into step beside him. He paused to scoop her up, bringing her into the bedroom. He offered Robb a small little smile. “I brought a little fluffball.” 

"My big fluffball is here too, but he's..." Robb laughed and gestured towards the end of the bed. A slowly wagging tail jutted out from underneath the bed, but no other part of Grey Wind was visible. "I think he's smelling something down there, but there's nothing. I already looked." He was quiet for a moment and Theon and Queenie climbed into bed, and he turned onto his side to face them. "How are you feeling?"

Theon chuckled, “Good.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You?” 

"I'm fine," Robb fibbed. "Come here, okay? We'll go to bed and talk more about this later."

“Okay.” Theon agreed, shifting closer to Robb as he laid down, though not as close as normal. “Talk about it later. Tomorrow. Okay. Goodnight, Robb. I love you.” 

He wasn’t sure how long it took Robb to fall asleep, and he thought he might’ve tried to talk once, but Theon pretended to sleep until he actually did. It took a while, but when he finally fell asleep, his dreams were more like nightmares. 

———

"Oh, pretty Wolf," crooned Luton. A harsh spank jolted his body forward, sending Robb face-first onto the concrete floor. He tasted blood in his mouth, and swallowed just to have the moisture in his throat. "You're my little bitch, aren't you? Little wolf." He tugged at Robb's hair, lifting his head up to expose his throat, and suddenly there were hands all over him. Groping, reaching, pinching at his nipples and squeezing the meat of his thighs. All the things he had loved when Theon did them to him, tainted with strangers' hands and lips. Luton swarmed over him, huge and leering, shoving and holding him down while an unseen face and body crowded his backend, spreading his thighs and driving deep, forcing... 

He fought and the hands held fast, tugging at his limbs like they meant to pull him right apart at the seams. The chain around his throat pulled and pulled and he choked, gasping on his own breath, and he couldn't hold back the tears as the pain spiked. 

"Do you like it, Wolf?" Luton's hand was between his legs, drawing mortified sobs from Robb's lips. It hurt, it hurt, so why—? 

Then it was Ramsay's face in front of his, eyes dead and lips in a grotesque, bloody smile. Robbs heart burned with hate, and he could glimpse Yara's knife still buried in his side. If he could reach it... But Ramsay, dead and rotting though he was, was free to move while Robb was pinned, helpless. He was watching, mocking, and the other Boys' faces were murky but they were there. How many people were...? How many pairs of hands were on him, how many putrid erections were prodding at him? And Theon was there. When had he gotten there? Theon was tied too, legs spread with another figure between them. Theon was staring at him, tears in his eyes, and they were fixed, frozen in time and couldn't look away from each other as their bodies were manipulated and abused. 

He woke up sobbing silently, face down in the silken pillow. Theon was asleep beside him, curled around a plush black body pillow. The fabric was decorated with little bees; Rickon had given it to Theon last Christmas. Robb watched him sleep as he tried to calm his breathing from a reedy wheeze to a regular rhythm. After a moment, he rose quietly from the bed and slipped off to the bathroom. His face was pale and drawn in the mirror, and he turned resolutely away from his reflection. He didn't need, nor want, to see the way his eyes were red-rimmed, or how his lip still trembled with repressed whimpers every few seconds. He sat down on the edge of the tub and wrapped his arms around himself, drawing in a shuddering breath and letting it out slow. His skin was crawling and he scratched anxiously at his arms, as though he could scrape away the remnants of the phantom touch. 

When his head finally cleared, he looked down at himself to find pale red scratches all down his arms. He chewed his lip, tears springing unbidden once more to his eyes, and leaned forward to thunk his head against the rim of the sink counter. What in the hells was the matter with him? Why couldn't he get it out of his head? Why did he dream it it every night, no matter how fine he felt during the day? And sitting here, having a silent meltdown while he clawed at his own arms... That wasn't okay. He wasn't okay.

There was a knock on the door, after Robb had been alone in the bathroom for over ten minutes. Theon stood outside the bathroom, wearing nothing but one of Robb’s shirts that reached partway down his thighs. It was too big for him, and made him look all cute and sleepy. The messy hair helped the sleepy look, and the bleary eyes as well. He knocked again, voice soft and groggy. “Robb? Lovely? Love?” 

"No," he choked out. Theon couldn't come in, not while he looked like this. Not when he didn't know about the sheer frequency of the nightmares.... "Thee, no, I'll be out, just give me a minute." But his voice was raw and thoroughly unconvincing, and he eyed the door for fear Theon would come in anyways.

Theon shifted uncomfortably, the floorboards creaking beneath him. He wanted to respect Robb’s privacy, he did, but... “Are you hurt, lovely? Are you okay?” 

"No, I'm... I'm fine." But he couldn't hide the scratches, and the red only darkened the longer he sat here. He hadn't broken the skin, but the worst scratches were slightly puffy.

“I- I’m gonna come in, okay? I don’t... I don’t wanna invade your privacy, but you’ve been in so long... I’m coming in.” Theon announced, giving him a few moments before actually opening the door. He did it slowly, eyes wide with concern even as he fought them closing from tiredness. “What’s wrong, Robb?” He stood in the doorway, cute as ever, forehead lined with worry. 

Robb tried to hide his arms, holding them behind his back. He was burning with shame, not wanting Theon to see him like this, but he could never demand he leave. "I'm fine, I just had a nightmare." Again.

“You can tell me. You can wake me up.” Theon said, voice soft. How many times had he woken Robb in the night? How many times had Robb seen him vulnerable, clawing at his skin and sobbing, shaking and curling in on himself? “You wake for me. I can- I can be there for you, Robb.” He noticed the way Robb hid his arms, but didn’t push it. He was worried, and he felt guilty. If he hadn’t tried to initiate sex the night before... if he hadn’t nearly raped his boyfriend... the thought made him sick to his stomach, so he pushed it away as best he could. “I want to be there for you.” Even if his mind was screaming that Robb was better off without him, that Robb would only be hurt more if Theon were there, that Theon made it worse...

Robb stood up. "Thee," he said helplessly, reaching out for him. His own shame didn't matter, not when his Thee was standing before him, so pathetic, just wondering why Robb didn't want his help. He did, he really did, but it was all too humiliating.

“I love you, you know. I just... I wanna be here for you.” Theon murmured, looking oh so sad and sleepy, cute and pathetic, all at the same time. He took Robb’s hand, squeezing gently, trying to push back his own feelings. No. This was about Robb, not him, not everything was about him. He wouldn’t let his stupid brain make it about him. It was about Robb, helping and loving him, being there for him. 

"I love you," Robb murmured in response. He tugged him closer, meeting him in a hug, and pulled back after barely a moment to kiss him. "I'm sorry I'm—... You're so perfect, Thee, my Theon. I love you."

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. None of this is.” He offered Robb a warm, sleepy smile. “I see the scrapes on your arms, lovely. I- you know, I’m not mad. Not disgusted. I know it’s hard, it- it gets hard. I know. You don’t have to hide from me.” 

"I don't mean to hide, it's just—" Pathetic, he didn't say. That wouldn't be fair to say, not after all the times he had caught Theon clawing at himself so hard he left bloody trails down his skin, and it was never pathetic then. All he could do then was worry about Theon, and now he was making Theon worry about him the same way. "The nightmares... I have them every night. Almost. Almost every night."

“I know.” Theon’s voice was soft. “I... I know you don’t want me to, but I know. I don’t sleep as much as I used to, I haven’t in years. I wake up and see you moving, hear- I hear the little whimpers sometimes. Sometimes I shake you a little, or hug you tighter until you calm down without waking up. I- I know you have nightmares. I don’t know how to help. I wish... I wish I could.”

"I don't know how to stop them. I have my meeting next week, though." Maybe the psychiatrist could prescribe him something to muffle the nightmares, even though Robb didn't quite want to be dependant on something like that. 

“You can wake me up when you have them. Any time. I’ve woken you so many times, lovely. I want to help you, whenever you need me. I want to be there for you. I love you so much.” He leaned in, softly kissing Robb’s cheek. 

"What did I do to deserve you?" Robb murmured, nuzzling against him. He picked Theon up, bracing his weight in his arms, and carried him back to bed. "It's still early. We should try to sleep, hm?"

Being carried by Robb was so nice, made him feel so safe and warm. “Do you want to? I can stay up, if you want. Anything. Whatever you need.” 

"No, Thee. Sleep. I'll wake you if it happens again, okay? I promise." He laid Theon down in bed, tucking the blankets around him, before climbing in the other side.

“You shouldn’t be caring for me. I should be caring for you right now.” Theon murmured, voice soft, moving to press up against Robb. 

"What, we're doing shifts?" Robb's laugh was a warm puff of hair against the top of Theon's head, a small shake of his chest. "You are caring for me, Thee, by being here. That's all I could need."

Theon nodded, and they laid there in silence for a few moments before he spoke up again. “I- what I did last night,” he said softly, “did I make it worse? The nightmares?” 

"No," Robb said firmly. "They— they're every night, you didn't make it worse. Don't worry about last night, okay?"

“Okay.” Theon murmured, nuzzling his face against the spot where Robb’s neck met his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” 

"It's okay, I promise. Just go back to bed, okay?" Robb himself was tired again. The scratches on his arms barely stung, and it was warm and cozy under the blankets with Theon in his arms.

“Love you.” Theon’s voice was muffled, guilt still twisting in his belly. “Gonna be my husband. Love you so much. Never want you to hurt.” 

"I love you too, Thee." He kissed his forehead, holding Theon closer to him. Nobody would ever be stealing him away again, never again. "Sleep, okay? I never meant to wake you in the first place."

“I wake up all the time on my own anyway.” Theon mumbled. “Didn’t wake me. I love you.” 

"I love you too. Sleep, okay baby? I don't want you all tired and grouchy tomorrow. I know you will be."

“‘s a Sunday tomorrow. We can sleep in.” Theon said, even though he didn’t sleep in much anymore. 

"You say that now, but you'll wake me up with pancakes and eggs at 8, like always. I know you, Mister Greyjoy. You won't fool me, so sleep! Brat." Robb poked his nose.

“I will not.” Theon huffed, smiling a little at the poke. He leaned in, planting a quick little kiss on his cheek. “I just love you.” 

"You will too!"

Grey Wind interrupted them, leaping heavily onto the bed and circling indecisively for a minutes before finally flopping down in a tight ball, squeezed between their legs. Robb looked down at him in amusement.

"Comfy, buddy?" Grey Wind's tail thumped once on the mattress.

“Love him.” Theon murmured, giggling softly as Queenie jumped up just moments later, climbing on top of Grey Wind to curl up herself. She blinked at them a few times, let out a tiny yip, then rested her little head down and closed her eyes. “And her. Silly puppies.” 

"They're both trying to sleep. See, Theon? Sleep." He booped him again, settling more comfortably into the mattress and tugging the blanket higher around their shoulders. "I will too, okay?"

Theon smiled, finally relaxing into the mattress and letting his eyes fall shut. “Okay,” He said softly. “I love you.” He recieved the same sentiment in a soft whisper, and soon found himself falling asleep.


	37. Chapter 37

“Love you.” 

Theon gave Robb one last kiss on the cheek before getting out of his car and walking up to the door of his childhood home- Yara’s home now, though it was a bit big for two girls and one drunk uncle. Though, Theon supposed, the three dragons took up plenty of space. Robb’s car didn’t drive away until the door opened and Yara let Theon in. 

“Yara!” Theon grinned, pulling her into a hug. 

"Hey, Theon." She hugged him back, tight yet brief. One of the komodo dragons was crawling over the floor towards her on stubby legs, its long tail dragging. There was a scarlet collar around its neck. Behind him, another dragon was peeking its head around the corner, flicking its tongue out. "Don't mind them, just step around. Viserion's in the kitchen moping. Euron's passed out upstairs somewhere, so we'll have to keep our voices down too, unless you want to see him."

“Ugh.” Theon grimaced. “He still lives here? Really? A grown man living with his niece and her girlfriend...” He looked down at the komodo coming toward them, giggling when its tongue darted out. “Where’s Dany at?” 

"Oh, she's at classes. And he helps pay the bills, believe it or not... And I'm just cool enough to let him live here." She smirked, nudging Drogon along with her foot as they went to the kitchen. True to her word, Viserion was curled around one of the counter stools, looking as morose as a reptile possibly could. An empty dish laid upside down several feet away from him. "Don't let him beg, they all just ate breakfast. Porky here just wants a little extra."

Theon snorted at that, grinning down at the dragon. “You’re a greedy boy, huh?” He teased, getting only a glance in his direction as a response. “Is he sad because he misses his mama, or because he’s a chunky boy and wants more food?” 

"He's a chunker, that's why. His mama always takes pity on those puppy eyes, doesn't she? I'm not his mama though." Yara leaned down and flipped the bowl right side up again, moving it back in place beside the other two, and Viserion only seemed to wilt when he realized that he wasn't getting a snack. Drogon flumped to the linoleum beside him, and Rhaegal joined them. Yara pulled up a stool, offering another to Theon.

Theon was a sucker for his puppy, he knew how it felt to be the parent to a greedy pet, and looking at the three practically pouting dragons was making him feel awful guilty. He sat next to Yara, looking at her instead. “Can’t they just have a little snack?” 

"Thee, you have no idea how big of a breakfast they just had. They're all on a bit of a diet, anyways." Even as she said it, she stood up again and went to the fridge, fetching three raw chicken legs from a drawer labelled 'DRAGONS'. She offered them to Theon, watching his growing excitement with amusement. "They take gently, don't worry."

“Wow. They have big snacks.” Theon commented, reaching a hand down with the legs. “C’mere, dragons. Stubby boys. Come here. Want a snack?”

Drogon was the first to stand, hurrying over on stubby legs and rudely snatching the leg out of Theon’s hand. Rhaegal was much more polite, though he was visibly excited, taking his gently, and Viserion ran over and licked his a few times before carefully taking it from Theon’s hand. All three dragons moved to separate corners of the room, protectively munching at their chicken legs, and Theon turned back to Yara with a wide smile on his face. 

“They are too fucking much, Yara.” 

"They're spoiled little bastards," she said, but she was smiling too. She'd never been happier than she was now; her relationship with her brother was only improving, her relationship with her gorgeous girlfriend was strong, and she had three adopted dragon children. Not to mention that her brother was safe now, and always would be. "Your Queenie is the same, though, isn't she?"

“She’s more spoiled, really. She looks at me and I just give in to her every desire. Can you imagine when I have kids? They’ll be spoiled rotten.” Theon laughed, smiling brightly at his sister. He’d noticed new pictures on the walls since he’d walked into the house. The old ones were still there, pictures of their family, but Yara had put up more. Pictures of her and Dany, of the dragons. A picture of Theon at graduation. One of Theon and Robb’s engagement photos. A picture of her and Dany on the beach, kissing. Warm, happy photos. His smile widened. “You’ve made the house feel less... cold. You know?”

"Have I?" Yara looked around. "I just made it seem lived in, I think. Dad barely cleaned and he hardly had any pictures up. Just old ones with Mom, and Maron and Rodrik. But it's not all just missing them anymore, so..." She shrugged. "Besides, Dany hated it. She would only stay if we brightened it up."

“I can’t blame her, really. It was so gloomy.” Theon looked back to the dragons, still happily munching on their chicken legs. “When does she come home?” 

"I have to get her at 3," she said, glancing at the clock. Forty-five minutes to go. "This is better than living with her brother, though. Delusional asshole thought he was going to bring back monarchy and crown himself."

He snorted, shaking his head. “Well... we’ve got plenty of delusional fuckers in this country, I can tell you that with confidence.” His sister looked good, he noted. Happier. It seemed the longer she was with Dany, the happier she got. She must’ve been working out more too- she was more buff. She’d always been more muscled than him, but she looked even more as of late. Instead of half up in a ponytail, the top half of her hair was elegantly braided. “You’re in for the long run with Dany, huh?” 

"Guess so," she shrugged. "I'm not hoping for a breakup anytime soon, anyways. Euron likes her too," she added, rolling her eyes. "He says he likes having another hot girl around the house." She wasn't too worried about it, though; Dany could take care of herself, and if it came to it the dragons would defend her.

Theon nearly choked. “Another? Is he calling you a hot girl? His niece? I mean, I’m not saying you’re not, but that’s... that’s not how you describe family?” He made a disgusted face. “Or your niece’s girlfriend, for that matter. Drowned God, he’s a creep. Never knew boundaries.” 

"He told me once when he was drunk like, a year or two ago, that I was 'banging'," she put air quotes around the word, "and that I was lucky we were related. Otherwise..." She trailed off, visibly disgusted.

“No wonder mom kept us away from him when we were kids.” Theon stood, walking over to the fridge to get a glass of water. “He never cared about relations before. Remember Uncle Victarion’s wife?” 

Yara pulled a face. "Yeah... Can't believe he didn't go to jail for that. Why's our family so fucked up?" She gave a wry little chuckle, leaning her chin into her palm, elbow on the countertop.

“No clue. We turned out alright though.” Theon grinned, walking back over to sit again. One of the dragons, Viserion, eyed him curiously as he moved. “By Greyjoy standards, anyway.” 

"We're by far the best Greyjoys of the family," she agreed. "Dunno how great of an achievement that is, though." She was quiet for a second. "I don't know how mom stayed with dad for so long."

“I don’t know why she decided to have four kids with that man.” He scoffed. “She loved him, though. She did. And I think he must’ve loved her, even if he was shit at showing it.” 

"He was shit at showing any kind of emotion, unless he was pissed or drunk," Yara scoffed. "Have to say... I was scared when he died, cause I didn't know what I was gonna do. But he left me the house and the money, and damned near everything else. And I don't miss him like I thought I would."

“I don’t miss him at all.” Theon felt bad for saying it, but... “I miss mama. I miss her a lot, I think about her a lot, but dad? No. After how he spoke to us as we got older... after how he neglected us after our brothers died... no. I don’t miss him at all, really. And he left me nothing when he died. He didn’t look for me when I went missing. Drowned God... mama was so tolerant.”

"Mom was an angel... Speaking of, I was gonna visit her later today, when the weather clears up. Want to come?" She glanced at the clock again. Half an hour until she had to pick up Dany, and the drive was just under twenty-five minutes. She would have to leave soon.

“I’ll come, yeah.” Theon agreed, looking over in the same direction as her and reading the clock. “Do you have to get Dany soon?” 

"Yeah. Did you wanna come with, or hang out here with the dragons?" Yara swung herself around on the stool and slid off, stretching as she stood. Immediately, Rhaegal lifted his head and fixed her in his yellow gaze, more questioning than intimidating.

“I’ll hang with these bad boys.” Theon grinned, waving at them. Viserion stood, hobbling over on stubby legs to stand in front of Theon’s stool and eye him curiously. 

"Alright. I'm gonna get going now then, just sit tight and I'll be back in an hour. Help yourself to whatever you want, all the cabinets have the same shit in them." Yara waved a brief goodbye and headed out, clicking the door shut behind her.

Theon found himself smiling even after the door shut behind her and he heard the sound of her car pulling out of the driveway. The home really felt different, it felt more like it had so many years ago when his mother was happy and his brothers were alive. When his shitty drawings were hung on the fridge, and the only time he had to miss his mama was when she was gone for a few minutes to pick one of his siblings up from school or a sports practice. He looked down at Viserion, then got off the stool to pat him. “It’s much nicer here now, mister. You probably don’t know that, though.” He told the lizard. 

Viserion tilted his head and pushed his snout into Theon's palm. His tongue flicked out, lashing gently against Theon's wrist, perhaps searching for another chicken leg. Outside the kitchen, a floorboard creaked. Drogon turned his head and hissed ominously.

When he turned to look at the entryway, his smile instantly fell from his face and he stood suddenly. Viserion turned in that direction as well, and joined his brother in hissing. 

“Uncle Euron.” Theon said coolly. “I thought you were passed out drunk.” 

"I was waiting til she left," he drawled, leaning against the entryway. He wore heavy boots, despite Daenerys and Yara's constant complaints about the mud he would track in, as well as the hazard of stepping on a lizard wearing them. "How've you been, Little Theon? It's been a while."

“Don’t call me that.” He snapped, glaring at him. As always, his uncle looked like shit. As if he’d just crawled out of a dumpster after passing out drunk in it and not getting out for a week. “Why’d you wait for her to leave?” 

"Don't need her snooping around our conversation," he said. Truthfully, Yara had blocked his every attempt to see Theon since his rescue, and Euron was opportunistic. He stepped closer, inviting himself in, and stepped right over a hissing Drogon's head. The lizard stomped in a circle, glowering up at him. Euron plopped down in Yara's vacated seat, grinning. "How was it, eh?"

Theon stepped further back, Viserion moving in front of him, as if to guard him. “How was what, Euron?” 

"Killing the son of a bitch," he said, dragging the syllables like it was obvious. There was an odd gleam in his eyes. "Watching him die. He had his stinking cock in your boy's ass, didn't he? And you got your revenge."

Theon shuddered slightly. “That’s none of your fucking business.” He snarled. “And I didn’t kill him.” 

"Oh yeah, that's right..." He waggled his finger at him, smirking. "You had Yara do it for you. Poor Little Theon just couldn't do it himself, could he? Had to get his big sissy to do it for him."

“I didn’t want him to die.” He spat, stepping back again. “Stop talking to me like this.” 

"You didn't want him to die?" Euron asked incredulously. "He made you his bitch! He emasculated you! You didn't want revenge? Didn't want to see him pay?"

“I just wanted him gone! Away from me! I didn’t want anyone to die. And it’s not your business anyway!” 

"Not my business? Somebody's gotta look out for poor Little Theon, eh? Uncle Euron is here, doncha worry." He reached out and patted Theon on the shoulder, a mocking gesture of care.

Theon jerked back, repulsed. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me, Euron!” His uncle had never been kind, and as a child he’d been almost scared of him. 

Euron narrowed his eyes, and he grabbed Theon by the arm as he tried to retreat. "Don't you raise your voice, Little Theon." All the lighthearted joking mannerisms had bled from his face and tone, fickle as always, and he glared at Theon with a cold blue gaze. "I'm your uncle, I can do what I want."

Theon froze, staring at Euron with wide eyes, fear showing visibly on his face. The tone stopped him, the tight grip on his arm stopped him, and suddenly he couldn’t talk. After a moment, he managed to shake his head. No. But he was too scared to move, to yank his arm away. “N-no.” 

Euron tugged him sharply, back towards him. He wrapped one arm around him, then the other, pinning Theon tight against his chest. He was trembling slightly, and Euron grinned. "See, Little Theon? Uncle Euron cares. He's here for you."

“L-Let go of me. Let go.” Theon’s voice was weak and he felt like he was suffocating. Like Euron was crushing him, forcing the air from his lungs. 

"Say 'thank you, Uncle Euron'," he said, mimicking Theon's voice in a high-pitched tone. "Say 'I love you, Uncle Euron'. That's what I love to hear." He squeezed him tighter still, Theon squirming against him. One of the dragons gave a long, loud hiss at their feet. He ignored it.

“Stop!” He pleaded. He didn’t want to say it, he didn’t. It reminded him of Ramsay. Delusions of love. It made him sick. “P-please stop! Let go!” 

"You have to say it, Little Theon," Euron teased. He leaned back and ruffled Theon's hair a little more aggressively than necessary, but didn't let go of him.

“No! I don’t, I won’t!” He finally tried to move, to tear himself from Euron’s grip. “Please, Uncle, please...” 

"Please, Uncle, please," he mocked, but released him anyways. He scowled, his fun effectively ruined, but the lizard was no longer hissing at him. "You were more fun as a kid, you know?" He traced his tongue over his lower lip, the skin there stained with pale blue, and remembered a time with broken glass and Alannys' enraged face.

“You tried to get me drunk and then got me hurt.” Theon mumbled, wrapping his arms tightly around himself and stepping back, joy looking at his uncle. 

"Is that what you're telling people?" Euron clucked his tongue. "That's not what I remember... My cute nephew, climbing into my lap asking for a sip of my juice. It's hardly my fault you fell."

“I didn’t ask. You told me to drink it, then shoved me. I had to get stitches!” Theon’s fists clenched at his sides. His mama had always disliked Euron, and for good reason. 

"Yeah, you and your precious mama always loved to blame me for everything." Euron clucked his tongue again, poking it between his teeth to trace over his lip again, as though he could still taste the old remnants of that drink. He leaned back against the stool, arms crossed.

“Because it was always your fault!” He argued, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. “You were bad to us! You- you raped Uncle Victarion’s wife!” 

"She came to me wet and willing," he snapped. It was a sore spot for him. Not that he was ashamed of it because he wasn't, but more so the fact that it had estranged him from the rest of the family. Victarion hadn't spoken to him since, and Balon would barely look at him.

“She killed herself because of it!” Theon was trembling. Family meant little to Euron, he knew. 

"She had regrets, every woman does," Euron snapped. "And you too, apparently. Flip-flopping between Stark and Bolton whenever you please, until you got the one killed. Crying rape whenever he left a bruise."

“He- What? He chained me down, he forced himself on me, he r-raped me all the time, I didn’t want it, I- I tore and bled! It hurt! It hurt so bad, I didn’t want him, I didn’t! I didn’t want Ramsay! I didn’t want what he did!” Theon was beginning to tremble, to visibly shake, growing paler by the second. 

Then Euron was holding him again, or rather pinning him in a mockery of a hug, whispering "Shhh, shhhh...." into his ear like it was supposed to be comforting. "You tell yourself that now that you regret it, now that he's too dead to argue, but all you fags are the same. Too desperate for cock to think straight, eh?"

Theon choked out a sob, his body once again rigid with fear. “No, no...” he whimpered. He hadn’t wanted it, he hadn’t! Even if Ramsay made him orgasm sometimes, he didn’t want it. Tears were beginning to drip down his cheeks. “Let go of me, please, please...” 

Euron relinquished him, still chuckling at his little joke, and watched Theon panic. "Fucking pathetic," he sneered. "Shaking like that. Did he cut your cock off too, and make a woman out of you?"

“No!” He stumbled back, instinctively placing his hands over his crotch as if to protect it. “No, stop!” 

Euron's chuckle flared into full blown laughter, practically doubled over with one hand on the countertop for support. "Drowned God, just look at you! Pissing yourself at just the thought of him! If your fucking mama was here now, what would she think of her baby?"

Theon’s face turned bright red and the tears began to flow faster. “Don’t talk about her! Don’t- don’t talk about my mama, don’t! You don’t have the right!” 

"I don't have the right? Do I have the right to tell you I fucked your precious mama too, so good she'd scream my name whenever old Balon would screw her?" Euron gave an ugly leering smirk, seizing on the tears and relishing them.

“She didn’t! You didn’t touch her!” Theon shouted, stepping back further and choking on a sob. “She wouldn’t let you, she wouldn’t!” 

Euron stepped forward, following after him. "Ever wonder why there's such a gap between Maron and Rodrik, and you and Yara? Might wanna start calling me Daddy Euron," he teased.

“No!” He stepped back again. “No, stop it! Stop it! She wouldn’t, she loved dad, a-and even if she didn’t, she wouldn’t cheat, she wouldn’t! Stop it!” 

"Your sweet mama was a whore, Little Theon. She didn't care who was screwing her, so long as her cunt was stuffed." He moved in closer, backing Theon towards a corner.

Theon didn’t even realize it until his back hit the wall, eyes flicking frantically around the room. “No, stop, no. No!” He shook his head frantically. She wouldn’t, not his mama, she wouldn’t. 

Euron stepped so Theon was effectively trapped. One of the dragons hissed again, and again he ignored it. "And you're taking after her, aren't you? Desperate to be fucked, and acting like you're so good. You always were a fucking mama's boy."

He was shaking horribly, and it was very visible now, his tears streaming down his face. “St-stop- stop talking about mama, stop it! Please, please, I’ll do what you want, I’ll- I’ll say whatever you want, j-just stop.” 

"What I want, hm?" Euron moved even closer, so Theon could feel his hot breath on his face. There was a tense moment of pause, and then Euron's hand was on Theon's groin, groping and squeezing. "You have a cock in there after all? Why don't you get on your knees and suck mine, Little Theon?"

Theon’s eyes widened even more, all the color draining from his face. He yelped, squirmed, swatting his hand away. “N-not that, please no, please don’t, please please please...” His pleas were blending together, vision blurry from tears. 

"You said whatever I want, Little Theon." The hand was back, firmer than before, and Euron's face was set in a hard grimace. "This is what I want. Didn't Bolton teach you how to please?"

Theon sobbed, choked on his tears. “He-he did, I don’t- I didn’t want to!” He wanted his mom, to run away from his scary uncle and into his mama’s arms, to hide his teary face against her chest as she banished Euron from the house. 

"I know Stark is soft, so you probably don't know this, but it doesn't matter what you want, Theon. What matters is who's stronger, and who takes what they want." Euron let go of his crotch, reaching to pull Theon's pants down. He got them down to his knees and had one hand on his groin again when the hissing grew thunderous and almost two hundred pounds of lizard went barreling into him, knocking Euron sideways. Viserion's teeth were in his bicep, tearing at the muscle to keep him down.

Theon let himself fall to the floor, curling in on himself as Rhaegal moved in front of him, creating a barrier between him and Euron, who was already being pinned down by Drogon as Viserion chewed at his arm. 

"Get these fuckers off me!" Euron spat, swiping his arm at Drogon to try and push him off. "Fuck! Let go, you—" He shoved at Viserion, but the dragon snapped at his fingers. "Theon, you know I was joking!"

“You were touching me! You- you were taking off my clothes!” Theon sobbed, eyes squeezed shut. Drogon stayed on top of him, weighing him down. 

Viserion, however, did let go of Euron when he landed a harsh blow on his head. The dragon hissed again in his face and moved to stand on top of him, helping Drogon hold him still. The bite wound was bleeding profusely, and within minutes would begin to swell profusely from the dragon's venomous bite. 

"A fuckin joke!" Euron howled. "You don't know what a joke is?"

“You groped me!” Theon finally stood, stumbling past him and over to the counter to grab his phone. Ignoring the rest of Euron’s howling, he fumbled to get to Yara’s contact and hit the call button, still gasping and sobbing. 

Yara picked up on the second ring, sounding harried. "What's up, Thee? I'm driving." She knew he knew that though, and she knew he wouldn't call unless something was seriously wrong.

“I- Euron- he-“ He choked off, sobbing into the speaker. “The dragons stopped him, but- but he- he was gonna hurt me. And mama, he talked about mama.” 

"What did he say about mom?" Yara asked through gritted teeth. "What was he gonna do to you?" 

"The dragons stopped him?" Daenerys echoed. The phone was on speaker, and she was listening in.

“Said he fucked her, he was- he was touching me, he wanted me to... to do things, I didn’t wanna, I didn’t, V-Viserion bit him.” Theon turned to look at the dragons, at Viserion who was now at his feet and looking up at him, blood on his face. 

"He bit him?" Daenerys gasped. "Oh, they're venomous!"

"Who cares?" Yara spat. Her grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled with rage. "Let him die."

"No, if they kill anybody they'll get taken away," Daenerys said, on the verge of tears. "I'll call an ambulance. Drogon, baby, just hold him down okay?" She called, hoping her voice carried over the line. 

"Theon, are you okay?" Yara asked worriedly.

“I-I’ll be okay, just hurry home, please, he- he’s yelling and angry, just hurry.” Theon’s voice shook. He knelt down, gently stroking Viserion’s head. 

"Will do," Yara said, hanging up and tossing the phone to the center console. 

Viserion was butting his snout against Theon's shins, smearing Euron's blood on his jeans without a care in the world. Euron was still cursing, now in pain more than rage as the bite continued to bleed and slowly swell.

“I-it’s okay, little guy. Little dragon.” Theon looked over at Euron, color slowly returning to his face as he watched him squirm. “How’s- how’s it feel, Uncle?” He tried to sound mad, but his voice faltered. 

"How's it feel," he mocked, despite the way his face was drawn and milky white with pain. "How the fuck do you think it feels, fucker? Call for some fucking help, who gives a shit about Yara!"

“Why should I? The- the only reason we’re getting help is so the dragons don’t get in trouble. So you don’t d-die.” Theon wasn’t cruel, but there was anger twisting around with the disgust and fear and panic. 

"For the dragons?" Euron hissed out a breath, shoving at Drogon again. The lizard kept him stubbornly pinned, not even looking at him. "Fuck— Theon, I was kidding, you know I was. Alannys never let me near her."

“You were going to assault me!” He argued. “You- you were going to force me- you were, I said I didn’t wanna, you were going to hurt me!” 

"I was joking, I was fucking joking! Drowned God, learn to take one!" Euron swung his fist at Drogon, and the dragon opened his mouth in a long warning hiss. Rhaegal ambled over, looking about ready to join his brother and plop on top of Euron.

“You were touching me!” Theon practically screamed. “You grabbed and touched me! That’s not a- a fucking joke!” 

Euron groaned, his arm prone to the side of him, and Rhaegal took care to step directly on the wound as he walked over Euron. "Just get them off me," he said, swearing intermittently.

“No.” Theon snapped. “They were defending me. They still are.” He didn’t want Euron free to move, not until Yara came home. 

"Defending you? From what, me? Let me up, come on," Euron groaned. "Get these fucking lizards off me." He pushed at them again, but had more or less given up on the idea of moving them. "I won't touch you, I was joking. I told you."

“You already did!” Theon snapped, but before either of them could say anything more, Dany and Yara were running into the house. 

“My babies!” Dany exclaimed, seeming to visibly relax at the sight of her three dragons unharmed. She then turned to Theon. “And you. You’re all alright. Yara and I were so worried... but you,” She turned to Euron, “I’d happily let you rot and die on the floor. I think all of us would, if not for the danger it would put my dragons in.” 

"We don't need anybody dying in the house," Yara said. "Bad for the atmosphere. I'm already gonna have to scrub his blood out of the floor." She guided the lizards off of Euron and put her foot on his chest instead. He glared up at her. "I hope you have someplace else to live, cause you're not living here anymore."

“Do I have to come to the hospital?” Theon spoke up, doing his best to sound firm. “I won’t press charges for attempted rape, Uncle, as long as you say you provoked the dragons. I don’t want for them to get in trouble.” 

"No, you don't have to come. I'm not going," Yara spat. "Ambulance is on its way." She had sped all the way home and beaten it there.

"Attempted rape?" Euron growled. "I told you, I was joking. You have no proof anyways."

“Listen.” Theon snarled. “You grabbed me. Groped me. Emotionally manipulated me, and also claimed to have raped my... my m-mother. You tried to force me to perform oral sex on you. You’ve been in jail for raping family before. A-and for raping other people. They’ll take my word over yours. My fiancé has- he has connections to the law. His mom does too. The whole family. If I press charges, you- you will go to prison. So I suggest you listen, and you go to the hospital and say you purposely provoked these sweet little lizards who normally show no aggression toward humans.” By the time he was finished talking, he’d straightened up and managed to stop shaking. 

"You want me to—"

"Comply, yes," Yara said, grinding her heel into his gut. Outside, an ambulance siren was growing nearer. "You'll do that, won't you Uncle Euron? Or else... Well, you know what jail is like."

Euron grit his teeth, seething in rage and pain, but Viserion parted his bloody jaws and hissed, and he seemed to remember his situation. "Fine," he snapped, looking much like he would like them to all drop dead.

Theon nodded, fumbling to get his phone unlocked and to text Robb. “I’m gonna have Robb pick me up, okay Yara? I-I’m sorry to cut our day short.” He walked over to her, avoiding stepping on his uncle, and gave her a quick, tight hug. “Love you, sis.” 

"Love you, Theon. Stay safe," she said, while Dany went off to retrieve the EMTs as they came up onto the porch.

Theon ignored the chaos around him, opting to sit a little ways away on the floor and pat Viserion’s little lizard head. Yara did the talking for him, and soon enough, Euron and the two girls were gone and Robb was there to pick him up.


	38. Chapter 38

The drive home was eerily silent, with Theon sitting in the passenger seat wrapped up in a blanket covered in tiny yellow bees, matching the body pillow from Rickon. Robb had brought it for him on a whim, and he felt very safe wrapped in it with Queenie on his lap and Grey Wind in the backseat. Robb didn’t try to prod and find out what was wrong, but Theon broke down in tears once they got home and into the bedroom. 

He turned to his fiancé after setting his little fluffy puppy on the bed and buried his face in his chest as little sobs began to shake his shoulders and tears slowly soaked into Robb’s shirt. 

"Oh, baby, what's the matter?" Robb murmured, rubbing his back. He tugged the blanket further up around Theon's shoulder, covering him completely. "What happened to you, Thee?" Even his head was covered, part of the blanket draped over him like a hood.

“Touched me,” Theon managed, the words muffled by Robb’s shirt. “He touched me.” He relaxed just a little bit, soaking in the warmth of his fiancé’s arms. 

"He touched you?" Robb's mind sparked with rage. Euron, fucking Euron. He'd never liked him, never trusted him, and the bastard was homophobic to boot but still, he would molest his nephew?

“Touched me a-and talked about my mama.” He whimpered, clutching at Robb’s shirt. “And you, and Ramsay. Said I wanted it all. Told me to- to suck him- I didn’t want to, the dragons bit him..” 

"He—? I'm gonna kill him, Thee, soon as I find out where he is now.... And you know he doesn't— He doesn't know anything, he's just trying to get under your skin. He's horrible, Thee."

“Viserion tried to eat him.” Theon let out a soft, weak, hiccuping giggle. “His arm. He’s in the hospital. I-I told him to say he provoked the dragons or I’d report him for attempted rape.” He inched back a little, tugging Robb toward the bed. “Just wanna cuddle you.” He mumbled. 

Robb scooped him up into his arms, keeping the oversized blanket wrapped snugly around him. "Why don't we go to the living room, Thee? I'll order us some food and we can watch a movie with the dogs. How does that sound?"

“Perfect.” Theon relaxed more in his arms, nuzzling his face against Robb’s neck, tears still streaming down his cheeks. “‘M sorry I’m like this.” 

"Don't be sorry, baby boy." Robb nudged the blanket 'hood' back from his face and kissed his forehead. "None of this is your fault."

“I just- fuck- he touched me, I hate him. I hate him. He doesn’t get to talk about my mama. He doesn’t.” Theon’s heart did a little flutter when Robb kissed him. They settled onto the couch, Grey Wind helping Queenie up before getting up himself. 

Robb tugged a blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around himself, leaning against Theon. "I know, baby. He won't get to anymore, you'll never have to see him again."

“I know.” He leaned back against him as well. “I just hate him. He’s horrible. He’s- he reminds me of Ramsay, sometimes.” 

"...then he'll get what's coming to him, too. Eventually," Robb said quietly. He wrapped his arm, with half of his blanket, around Theon's shoulders.

“I love you.” Theon mumbled, tears slowly beginning to dry on his cheeks. “Did-did you wanna order pizza?” 

"Yeah, baby. What do you want?" Robb began to dial their favorite pizza place, while Theon leaned his head on Robb's shoulder.

“Large pizza. Garlic knots, maybe french fries? Whatever you want.” Theon’s cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink as he giggled. “Remember when you thought pizza delivery was illegal?” 

"Th-that wasn't my fault!" Robb flushed. "My mom told me it was. Hush, I'm calling." The phone rang, was picked up, and he placed the order. "Half hour," he reported, settling back next to Theon.

“You wanted to be a delivery man.” Theon giggled, nuzzling his face against Robb’s neck.

"I did," Robb said, pouting. "My dream was snatched so cruelly away from me. Now look at me, studying politics." He shook his head in mock horror.

There were more giggles, and Theon’s eyes had stopped dripping tears. “Delivery boy Robb. I’d have to order pizza every single night.” 

"You'd be getting a little more than just pizza." To show an example, Robb turned his head and gave Theon a sweet, chaste kiss.

“A side order of kisses. Perfect.” Theon kissed him again, gentle and loving. Queenie scrambled up his lap, clearly wanting some kisses of her own, so Theon carefully lifted her up and kissed her before holding her to Robb. “She wants some too.”

"But of course!" Robb kissed her little nose and stroked the fluffy fur back from her face. "Sweetie girl, can't have the attention on anyone else." As he said it, a gray snout pushed itself under his arm. Grey Wind's round amber eyes stared beseechingly at him, his tail wagging hopefully. "You're just as bad," Robb told him, freeing another hand so he could pet both dogs at the same time.

“Little babies.” Theon cooed, leaning down to place a gentle kiss atop Grey Wind’s snoot before straightening back up again. “What do you want to watch, Mister and Miss puppy? Robb?” 

"I'm okay with whatever you're in the mood for," Robb said. "How about you guys?" Grey Wind gave a soft, affirmative woof and clambered up onto the couch beside them, curling himself in tight to fit. Queenie merely wagged her tail, licking at Theon's exposed cheek.

“Put on some stupid romcom.” Theon suggested, pressing up closer against Robb. 

"Sounds good to me," Robb agreed. He clicked on the television to Davflix and picked the first romantic comedy with a dog shown in the thumbnail.

Theon kissed his cheek, eyes soft and full of love. “I love you.” He kept his voice soft and quiet, kissing his cheek again. “Thank you. For always being here for me. I love you. So much.” 

"I would do anything for you, baby. You should know that by now." Theon's lips brushed over the stubble on his cheek and Robb smiled to himself. Theon was burritoed in the blanket, only his face and fingers peeking through, not even focusing on the movie as it began to play. He was focused solely on Robb, eyes trained on his face, and Robb turned his face to capture his lips.

Theon made a soft, happy sound that was muffled by their kiss. Robb was so warm, so loving, so patient and kind. He loved him, his heart fluttering in his chest as they kissed. “Make me feel so safe.” He murmured, pulling just slightly away from the kiss, just enough to talk. 

Robb pulled him into his arms, the blanket falling open around them, so they could cuddle. Queenie and Grey Wind shifted to nestle comfortably around them. "I love you so much. My whole world, Thee."

“Don’t even deserve you.” Theon smiled at him, happily snuggling up in his arms. “Our little family. You, me, Queenie, and Grey Wind. Maybe some little babies someday, too.” 

"Not too soon though, okay? We have a little much on our plates right now," Robb chuckled. "The dogs are practically kids, anyways."

“We have to marry first anyway.” Theon giggled, looking up at him. “Married before we have kids. Adopt, surrogate... if rather have a surrogate.” 

"What, you don't want to have kids out of wedlock?" Robb teased. "Besides, we already have Ygritte on board. We're all set."

“Little bastard babies.” Theon giggled, cheeks flushed. “With pretty curly hair, just like you. They’d be so cute! Little baby Robbs.” 

"And what about little baby Theons?" Robb countered. "Bright, pretty eyes and perfect smiles... And the curls." He laughed. "Any kid of ours is doomed to them, hm?"

“Ah, you’re right! The curls. It seems no other babies would be as cute as ours.” Theon sighed happily. He wanted kids at some point, he knew that for sure, wanted to buy a house and decorate a nursery in all pretty colors, to dress up his little boy or little girl in the cutest clothes, to watch his future child or children play with the dogs and his husband.

Queenie made a soft yip of complaint. "Don't worry, Queenie. I know daddy's forgotten about you, but I didn't. No babies will be as cute as you," Robb promised her. "Or you, Grey," he added, because Grey Wind was peeking his head around to give him an affronted look.

“Doggies and babies are different types of cute!” Theon protested. “We have the cutest dog babies, too. Little puppies. Teeny baby puppies. You too, Grey Wind, you count as a teeny baby puppy.” 

Grey Wind, by no means teeny, wagged his tail with enough force to shake his entire body. Robb grabbed him around the middle to stop him from wiggling off the edge of the couch. "Mister Puppy," Robb coed, ruffling his fur. Grey Wind panted happily, leaning his head into the touch.

Theon burst out laughing, eyes bright. “Silly boy! Such a silly little wolfie boy! You’re just a little baby wolfie!” He cooed, and Grey Wind began to wiggle even more, body practically vibrating with excitement. Queenie was getting excited as well, so Theon looked down at her. “Baby girl! You are supremely teeny! A certifiable baby!” 

"I don't know if you're gonna have enough time in the day to tell them and any kids how much of a tiny baby they are," Robb remarked, though he wore a fond smile. "And what about me?"

“You’re no teeny baby. You’re my big, buff, handsome fiancé.” Theon looked back up at him, smiling back brightly. “Bigger than me. So strong and handsome. Protector of all our teeny babies.” 

"Lots of pressure on me, then?" He gave a crooked grin, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I'll do my best to keep them all safe, and you." Nevermind that his best had never been enough, the threat was dead now.

“I’ll protect all the babies too. But you’re the big buff one. I am merely toned.” He teased, planting a few soft kisses along his jaw. “Grey Wind should do some protecting, too. He’s a big little boy!” 

"Grey Wind? He's ferocious! Just look at those teefers!" Robb pulled his lips back with a finger to show the pearly white fangs, long and sharp. Grey Wind lolled his tongue, licking at Robb's fingers, his tail still wagging merrily at all the attention.

“Terrifying!” Theon leaned down and kissed Grey Wind’s big nose, getting a happy wet lick in response. He pulled away and kissed Queenie’s tiny nose, getting licked even more by his little fluffy Pomeranian. “We have such beasts in this home.” 

At that moment, the doorbell rang and Robb reluctantly untangled himself from the blankets. "Pizza's early," he said, going to retrieve it. But it wasn't pizza that waited on the other side of the door. 

It was Jon and Sansa, each with a wolfdog at their heels. "Hey! Mind if we crash the party?" 

"Come in, grab a blanket. We're, uh... Playing a movie? Not really watching it. But it's on."

“Jon! Sansa!” Theon sat up straight, smiling brightly at them. “Lady and Ghost! Hello!” 

Queenie leapt from Theon’s lap and the couch at the sight of the large white dog, running on her tiny little feet over to see him. She stopped right in front of him before she looked up and yipped, causing Theon to burst out into a fit of giggles. 

Ghost's tail wagged twice and he looked up at Jon as though asking permission to play. Lady, on the other hand, immediately trotted over and nosed at Queenie with a hopeful look, her tail wagging merrily. Jon nudged Ghost forward and he joined the two girls, and so did Grey Wind a moment later. Jon and Sansa joined Theon and Robb on the couch.

"Hi, Theon!" Sansa did as Robb suggested and grabbed a blanket, throwing it around her shoulders like a cape. Jon did the same, but with less flair.

“Didn’t know you were coming. We would’ve ordered more pizza if we had.” Theon smiled at her, and she beamed brightly back at him. 

“That’s okay! We grabbed a quick snack before coming.” She explained, before pausing and snickering. “Hey Robb, remember when you thought pizza delivery was illegal?” 

Jon burst out laughing and Robb heaved an overdramatic sigh. "Theon was just teasing me too. Mom told it was, okay? Not my fault!" 

"You cried for days," Jon teased. Robb sulked, grabbing his blanket again and pulling it over his face like a shroud.

“Davos’s Pizza, this is Robb speaking.” Theon teased, mocking Robb’s voice in a playful manner. “I’ll be delivering your food tonight, but don’t invite me in unless you’re Theon.” 

Sansa snorted, relaxing into the couch. “Gonna make a cheesy delivery man movie, brothers?” 

"What, that kind?" Jon pretended to think. "Nah, I've been there, done that. Besides, I don't think Robb is much of the sharing type."

Robb shook his head, grabbing Theon around the shoulder and pulling him back into the blanket nest. "Nope, sorry. This is my Theon, you have to get your own."

“No!” Theon and Sansa simultaneously exclaimed, before bursting out in giggles. 

“I didn’t mean you and Jon both- with Theon- that’s not-!” Sansa managed between giggles. “I meant Theon and Robb! Theon’s my brother now, or almost! I didn’t mean you too, Jon!” 

"You— What? Sans, that was so misleading!" Jon's cheeks were bright red, and he withdrew further into his blanket. 

"Good. Because Theon's not for sharing, okay? Right, baby boy?" Robb kissed his cheek, brushing a stray lock of hair back from his face.

“Nope! I’m for Robb only.” Theon confirmed, a happy flush on his cheeks. Baby boy. Robb was so soft, so sweet, and he loved him so much. “Not for sharing. Jon’s already had his turn.” 

Sansa burst out laughing, hiding her face in her hands to muffle it. 

"Theon!" Jon moaned in despair. "It was a mistake. Misunderstanding, I mean, this, not—"

"We get it, Jon," Robb said, smirking.

“Yeah, Jon.” Theon echoed, nuzzling his face against Robb’s neck and placing soft kisses along it, only stopping when they heard the doorbell ring. 

“I’ll get it!” Sansa jumped up, grabbing her purse and running to the door before anyone could protest. A muffled conversation and a few moments later, the door shut and she was reentering the room with their food. “My treat!” 

"Oh, Sans, you didn't have to do that," Robb protested. He reached into his pocket and tried to hand her some money, but she waved it off. "At least let me order you guys something, from wherever you want. Pizza? Dornish? Lysene?" he suggested.

“We already ate! I told you!” Sansa protested. “Just shush and eat your food, don’t worry about it.” 

“You’re so cool.” Theon told her before reaching to open the box and grab a slice. 

"You're the best, Sans," Robb said happily, snagging a slice himself. Jon glanced over at the dogs, playing quietly in the other room, and then at the television. A brown-haired, doe-eyed girl was playfully snipping at a generically handsome blonde man, while a Golden Retriever panted happily at their feet. Just a typical Davmark movie.

Theon practically inhaled his slice and moved to grab another before relaxing back on the couch, a happy, lazy smile on his face. “You guys are all the best.” 

“You’ve got a cool ass family in us, Theon.” Sansa smiled brightly at him, and he smiled back. Family. He would be legally part of the Stark family, the family that had cared for him for most of his life, more than his real family ever had. Would be married to Robb, his beautiful boy with auburn hair and blue eyes, his boy who was more gorgeous than anyone else on the planet. His heart did a little flutter in his chest, and he sighed happily. 

“Yeah,” He agreed, “I guess I do.”


	39. Chapter 39

Robb woke up with a feeling in his belly that he hadn't had in ages. He rolled over, away from Theon, wondering if it would go away if he just ignored it. Sunlight was already streaming through the curtains, bright in the swell of summer, and birds were chirping merrily. Grey Wind was absent from the room, as was Queenie, but the bedroom door was cracked just wide enough for a dog to squeeze through, and Robb wasn't concerned. As a matter of fact, he was almost languid in his thoughts, the most relaxed he had been in the couple of months since their rescue. Minutes passed in this manner, with Robb gazing through the gap in the curtains and trying to ignore the heat of his cock, hard between his legs. 

It was futile, however, and after a time he cast a nervous glance over his shoulder at Theon, laying still on the other side of the bed and breathing deeply, and he slipped his hand under the blanket. He let out a tight hiss as he brushed contact against his erection, but no panic sparked in his chest, and he wrapped his hand around himself and slowly slid his hand up his length, letting his eyes fall closed and his mouth fall open in pleasure.

Theon, ever the light sleeper nowadays, woke at the soft sounds and small movements of Robb next to him in bed. The little hiss, the soft sighs of pleasure... something twisted in the pit of his stomach as he listened, feeling his cheeks grow hot. He had a fair idea what was going on, but he didn’t want to embarrass Robb, or scare him. But it felt wrong to just lay there and pretend to be asleep. 

He turned quietly. “Robb,” He murmured. “Robb, lovely. Handsome. Are you okay?” 

Robb started, and yanked his hand away from himself. He turned back over to face Theon, cheeks red. "Yeah, I'm okay," he said sheepishly. "I didn't know you were awake."

“Do you want me to leave?” Theon asked, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Robb’s cheek. “Give you some privacy?”

"No, you—" Robb shifted closer in bed, eyes on Theon's face. "Stay. If you want to." He kissed Theon again, lingering at his lips a moment longer. "Please."

“Yeah?” Theon breathed, feeling a stirring in his groin. “I will. Handsome, you’re so handsome.” He kissed him back. 

"Beautiful Thee..." Robb nipped at Theon's lip and inched closer, barely breathing. All of a sudden he was ready, for whatever Theon wanted. He wanted it. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Theon would be perfectly happy to do whatever Robb wanted, anything, to make his fiancé to feel good and to feel good himself. “I want you to like it. Whatever we do.”

"I'm perfect. You're perfect. I want you, Thee." His cock was achingly hard and he really did want him, wanted anything Theon could give him, and the desperate lust in his head made it hard for Robb to remember why he had avoided for so long.

“Just let me know if you need to stop, or slow down.” Theon scooted closer, moving to pull his own boxers down. 

Robb rolled onto his back and lifted his hips to slide his boxers off, throwing them aside. It was all he slept in that night, a result of the warm breeze through the window fan, and the feeling of being totally naked under the silky cool sheets sent a tingling chill up his spine. His cock twitched hopefully, and Robb turned again to look at Theon, his beautiful Theon with his tousled hair and lips curved in a gentle smile.

“Do you wanna fuck me, love?” Theon purred, moving closer to throw one of his legs over Robb’s waist, his hardening cock pressing against his thigh. 

"Fuck, yes," he hissed, kicking the sheets off to the end of the bed. He sat up and grabbed Theon by the hips, pulling him into his lap. "I want you bad, baby."

Theon rolled his hips, grinding down against Robb’s erection and letting out a breathy little moan. “Want you too, handsome. Fuck, Robb, you’re gorgeous.” 

Robb flipped them over, pressing Theon down against the pillows and kissing him hard while he ran his hands down his chest. "Sexy, Thee," he murmured, pinching and toying at his nipples.

He made an odd noise somewhere between a squeak and a yelp, nipples as sensitive as ever, cheeks flushed dark pink. “Feels good.” He rolled his hips again, grinding their cocks together. 

Robb lowered his head to Theon's chest, kissing over his heart. He was achingly hard, and he grabbed Theon's thighs and spread his legs further apart, fitting himself between. "You want me to fuck you?" he murmured, lips trailing up Theon's throat.

“Please.” Theon nodded quickly. “Lube in the drawer, I’ve- ah- I’ve used it for myself, it’s fairly new, bottle is pretty full, oh-!” Their cocks brushed together, and it felt so good to have Robb between his legs again. He could only imagine how good it would feel to have his cock in his ass. 

Robb leaned over and pulled the drawer, fumbling blindly for the bottle without taking his eyes off Theon's face. His beautiful, sweet, perfect Theon. He popped the cap and coated his fingers, wasting no time in prodding at Theon's hole, teasing his fingers against him but not quite pushing in.

Theon gasped sharply, having not felt anyone other than himself touch there in weeks. It felt good, sending shivers up his spine. “Robb, Robb, please,” He moaned, pressing back against the fingers. 

"Needy," he teased, but he was a hypocrite. He sank one finger in to the second knuckle, groaning softly at the velvety feel of him and the pliant give as he stretched him.

Theon almost joked about how long he’d gone without being fucked, but quickly decided against it to avoid hurting Robb’s feelings. “Just love you. Want you.” He gasped instead. 

"Tell me what you want. What do you want me to do to you?" Hearing Theon's voice, being in control, just knowing that the both of them wanted this... It all served to ground Robb, and encourage him as he teased a second finger against Theon's entrance.

“More fingers, please. Then your cock. I want it, want you, however you wanna have me.” He leaned up and captured Robb’s lips in a kiss. 

Robb obliged, slipping another finger inside. The lubricant on his fingers made a soft, wet sound as they slid into him, and Robb's cock twitched eagerly. He nipped at Theon's lip, kissing him deeper as he pressed his fingers in further.

“I can take more, I can, please, I want your cock, want more,” Theon’s lips moved against Robb’s, talking between desperate little kisses, hips wiggling a little to help himself adjust to the intrusion. 

"Just be patient, okay Thee? You're tight..." He added a third finger, stretching him as quickly yet efficiently as he could. He ground his hips against Theon's so their cocks rubbed together.

Theon simply moaned into the kiss, clenching around the three fingers. The stretch wasn’t painful, more uncomfortable than anything, but he wanted Robb inside him as soon as possible. “Please, Robb, please...” 

"Are you sure you're ready?" Robb was, sure as hells, but gods forbid he hurt Theon after so long.

“I’ll adjust. Please. I know you’ll be careful.” Theon pulled back a tiny bit, looking at Robb with wide, pleasing eyes. 

"Okay." Robb pulled his fingers free and grabbed his cock, slicking himself up with lubricant. He pressed against Theon's hole, slowly pushing in.

He yelped, eyes going even wider, and then whimpered softly as Robb continued to push in. It felt odd, to feel so full again. He had dildos, but a real cock was just... different. It hurt a little bit, the stretch, but he knew it would fade to pleasure soon enough. “Robb...” He whined. 

"Okay." Robb pulled his fingers free and grabbed his cock, slicking himself up with lubricant. He pressed against Theon's hole, slowly pushing in.

He let out a soft, low moan, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. It was uncomfortable, but it felt good. Robb always felt good. He was so strong, so handsome, so warm... Theon could feel his body heat radiating off of him. 

Robb settled himself in Theon, letting them both adjust. "Thee... Baby..." He gazed down at him, eyes half-lidded, biting at his lip. He was so gorgeous like that, head tipped back and lips parted, his chest quivering with each breath.

“Love you.” Theon opened his eyes a little bit, panting softly. “You’re so big, stretching me like this...” 

"You're perfect, Thee, fucking perfect... Beautiful," he breathed, just drinking in the sight of him all spread out and taking every inch of him. Every time he saw him like this it took his breath away... How had he been so scared of this, for so long? Theon was nothing like them. Theon's touch was love itself, was pure and warm, whereas their touch was cold and cruel and devoid of any sort of care.

“You- you’re the perfect one.” Theon argued, playful. His hips bucked, jerked, his cheeks flushed deep pink. It felt good, so good after waiting so long. 

Robb shook his head in mute defiance, rolling his hips slow and deep against Theon's. His cock dragged almost imperceptibly, with Robb watching Theon's expression for any sign of discomfort.

“Please, baby, you can move more, please,” Theon gasped, breath hitching as the head of Robb’s cock brushed over his prostate. 

Obliging, he shifted his hips again, groaning at the feel as Theon's inner muscles moved around him. "Thee, you're so tight... You sure you're good?"

“Y-Yeah, just been a while, I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt, don’t worry, it just- ah- bit of a stretch.” His eyes were clouded with lust, pupils blown, lips parted slightly to let out breathy moans. 

"I'll go slow, okay?" Robb moved again, gentle, and lowered his hand to Theon's erection. His cock was flushed hot, skin silky smooth under his fingers, and Robb matched his gradual thrusts with strokes of his hand.

“Feels good, don’t worry.” Theon assured him, reaching his arms around him, nails digging lightly into his back. 

At the encouragement, he picked up a steady pace, holding Theon's hips as he thrust into him, one hand still teasing his cock. "I love you, baby," he murmured, looking into his eyes. Pretty green eyes.

“I-I love you too-“ Theon’s breathing was growing more shallow, those pretty green eyes nearly rolling back in his head. His cock was leaking, precome dribbling out of his slit and down his length, some droplets splattering out onto his belly. “Feels good, Robb, it feels so good,” 

"Fuck, baby," Robb murmured, lifting Theon's hips up off the mattress to get a deeper angle, thrusting down into him and driving into his prostate. "Gonna make you come, okay? Over and over."

“Yes! Please, please,” Theon tipped his head back, his moans reaching a higher pitch at the now constant thrusting against his prostate, the head of Robb’s cock repeatedly hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves. “I’m gonna- can’t last long, baby, I’m gonna come if you- if you keep that up.” 

"Wanna see you come, Thee," he panted. The last person he'd seen orgasm was Luton on his face, branded into his mind forever. He wanted to brand Theon over that again, so it would never be anybody but Theon.

“Close, baby, I’m close,” Theon warned, cock twitching between them. He was tight around Robb, clenching, holding back for another minute before finally giving in to the overwhelming pleasure, the wave of pure, white-hot bliss. He nearly screamed, crying out Robb’s name over and over, gasping as his hips jerked and his body trembled. It felt good, so good, the best orgasm he’d had in so long, Robb’s pretty face and pretty blue eyes burned into the back of his eyelids so he could see them as he finished. Pretty blue, soft blue, so far from being ice cold. 

Robb felt his own release building fast, with so much time since they last time they had had sex, but he had wanted to bring Theon to orgasm more than the once. He had wanted him tearful with pleasure, belly striped with his own semen. Robb bent his head and kissed Theon as he came, clenching so tight around his cock, practically milking him.

He kept moaning, lips pressed together, the kiss growing sloppy and wet. “In me, please, feel-feels so good, want your come in me,” He panted, opening his eyes just a little, clouded with pupils blown. “Please, Robb, please!” 

Robb nipped at his lip, managing a few more thrusts before he came, almost sobbing at how damn good it felt. "Fuck, Thee, I—" He rolled his hips a few more times against him, riding out the high. "I fucking love you. So much."

“Love you- ah, fuck! Robb! Love you too.” Robb’s cock was still slamming into his prostate, oversensitive and aching, almost too much for him to handle. Almost. But then Robb was still, burying himself deep within him and nearly collapsing atop him, and Theon felt like he was floating. “How- How was it?” 

"Perfect," Robb said softly. He wasn't done, however. He pulled out and moved down Theon's body, pressing chaste kisses to each freckle and dip in his body, making his way down to Theon's cock. He kissed the head, soft and sweet, and grabbed Theon by the thighs, spreading them open. Theon's hole was quivering, Robb's semen dripping free. He lowered his head and kissed his hole, teasing the flat of his tongue against it.

“R-Robb- Robb-“ Theon stammered, whimpering at the feel of Robb’s tongue on his sensitive skin, licking up the mess. It felt good, so good, and Robb looked so damn pretty with his hair all messy and cheeks flushed pink. 

"Cleaning you up, baby boy," Robb murmured, licking at him. He tasted himself, salty and a little bitter, but he tasted Theon and Theon was perfect, making delicious little mewling whines while he fucked him with his tongue.

Theon spread his legs a little wider, giving Robb better access, staring down at him in awe. “I love you, that- it feels good, feels- it’s so good, love.” 

Robb pulled away, wanting to kiss Theon but having to refrain now. His hole was pink and wet, and Robb wasn't quite done yet. He moved to Theon's belly, licking up the streaks of cum, eyes half-lidded and gazing up at Theon.

Theon’s toes curled and he hissed, cock twitching reluctantly where it laid limp against his belly. It felt good, Robb’s tongue. “Robb, R- Robb-“ He couldn’t look away, staring back into his fiancés gorgeous blue eyes. 

"So perfect for me, my Thee." Robb moved away entirely, laying beside Theon and kissing his cheek. "My handsome Theon. My baby boy."

Theon’s cheeks flushed deep pink as he turned a bit to face Robb. “I love you. So much.” He murmured, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. 

"Perfect baby boy," he breathed against his lips. "I love you too, Thee." His Theon was so handsome, so beautiful with his wavy curls mussed up and his eyes hazy with post-orgasmic bliss. "How did I get so lucky? I get to marry you."

“Oh hush.” His cheeks flushed even darker pink. “I’m lucky. You’re perfect. My perfect fiancé. My future husband.” They looked so soft, curled up against each other, both flushed with small smiles on their faces. “I love you.”


	40. Chapter 40

Weeks passed, months passed, leaves were beginning to change color and fall from the trees. Green turned to yellow, red, orange, brown, and the air smelled crisp as the temperature slowly grew colder. There were leaves on the ground everywhere, crunching beneath the feet of little children as they ran, and then their parents as they chased after them. But that night, everyone seemed to be inside, and the streets were quiet. It would soon change as the hour grew later and the kids of the north were all dressed up. 

“Shaggydog again, huh?” Theon snorted, looking at Rickon as he finished pulling on his fuzzy black onesie. Shaggy was sat on the floor behind him, wearing a shirt and looking rather disgruntled. Theon wasn’t sure how exactly Rickon had managed to get him to wear the shirt in the first place. 

"Hey, it saves mom from having to buy a costume every year," Robb muttered, grinning. Rickon, oblivious to their conversation, was tugging at the wild tufts of fur on his costume, making them stand up even more. Shaggydog pressed his nose to the sleeve of the onesie and gave a long sniff, ruffling the faux fur with his exhale. "You know, Rickon, you should start saving Shaggy's fur when you brush him and make yourself a new onesie."

Rickon perked up, his eyes going wide at the suggestion as he turned around and looked at Robb. “Woah- yeah! That’s a good idea!”

“Why would you say that?” Theon turned to look at Robb as well, grimacing. 

"Think of how soft it'll be!" Robb laughed. "I think Shaggy would like it better, too. Look, I don't think he likes how that smells. Or, it might be the detergent."

Shaggydog still had his nose on the sleeve, sniffing up and down very intently.

“This is absurd.” Theon snorted, shaking his head slightly. He had a cheap plastic silver crown atop his head, as did Robb, and he didn’t want it to fall off. They were both wearing all black underneath big fluffy blankets they’d tied around their necks to look like cloaks. 

Rickon watched the crown wobble, jutting his lip out in a way reminiscent of when he was six. "I told you guys to wear dog ears, so we match," he complained. "Now we won't match and Shaggy will be upset."

Theon visibly tensed up. He’d rejected the dog ear idea the second Robb had mentioned it to him. He’d worn dog ears in Ramsay’s basement. He’d worn them while he was beaten and raped. He’d worn them- 

He shook his head a little again, trying to push the thoughts to the back of his head. “Rickon, we didn’t want to be dogs, buddy. Plus, now your costume is unique.” 

"I guess so." He brightened up, tugging at the back of Shaggydog's t-shirt to make him stand. Shaggydog, whose head was almost at a height with Rickon's shoulders, wagged his tail once and fixed Robb and Theon in a cold green stare, as though challenging their reluctance to wear dog ears. 

"Ready to go?" Robb asked. He whistled for Grey Wind, and the dog came trotting in decked out in knight regalia, made out of plastic and cloth for ease of motion. Queenie dashed after him, her floofy princess skirt bouncing with each step.

Theon smiled down at his puppy, scooping her up in his arms. She kissed on his face, all over it, tiny little doggie kisses, and he laughed before kissing her wet little nose. “She’s all ready to go!” 

"Me too! Can we go?" Rickon whined. He had moved towards the door, fluffy tail bobbing behind him, and peeked back at them longingly with one hand on the knob.

"Yes, Rickon, we're coming," Robb said.

“Gotta get their leashes.” Theon grabbed Queenie’s pink, sparkly one from a peg near the doorway. “Can’t loose the puppies on Halloween.” 

"Especially our little princess! Somebody would snatch her right up!" Robb tickled her paws and she squirmed. Grey Wind nosed at him, whining. "Or our handsome, brave knight of course!"

“To be fair, it would be much harder to lose Grey Wind.” Theon couldn’t help but snicker, looking down at the massive dog. “And even harder to lose Shaggy.” He glanced back at Rickon and his even bigger dog. 

"You're right."

"Come on!" Rickon whined more persistently. He went ahead and opened the door, letting Shaggydog trot ahead out the door onto the porch.

“We’re coming!” Theon snorted, placing Queenie down once her leash was hooked up and keeping the handle looped around his wrist. “Patience, little dude.” 

"Patience is for the weak!" he proclaimed, dashing out after Shaggydog and bounding down the porch steps, tailed by Grey Wind. Robb shouted after him, chasing him with leashes in hand.

“He’s nine! Where does he learn this shit?” Theon whispered to Robb, glancing to him as they followed after the energetic kid and his dog. 

"Arya, I'm guessing." Robb caught up with the dogs, clipping a leash to each Grey Wind and Shaggydog's collars. He handed Shaggydog's leash to Rickon and led Grey Wind over to the car. "Where do you want to go, Rickon?"

“Everywhere!” He announced. “That’s why we leave early! More candy!”

It was fairly early for trick or treating, still light outside, only a few kids out stumbling along with their parents. “You just want the candy? Not the experience?” Theon teased, eyeing the pillow bag in Rickon’s fist. 

"Definitely the candy," Rickon said. "Can we go to King's Road first? Those houses always give out full size candy bars."

Robb grimaced; the Lannisters lived on King's Road, and he would rather not see them. "Of course, buddy. Wanna walk or drive?"

“Walk! We hit the houses on the way!” Rickon exclaimed. “Then we get the most candy!” 

Shaggydog barked in agreement, and Queenie whapped him with her paw. 

"Good idea! C'mon, Grey!" Robb clucked his tongue and led him away from the car. Rickon hurried after them, Shaggydog leaping ahead and tugging at his leash.

"Shaggy, stop!" Rickon ordered, mimicking Robb's sound. Shaggydog ignored him, sidling up alongside Grey Wind to nip at him. 

Queenie was hustling to keep up with the big dogs, her poofy skirt bouncing as she trotted along down the sidewalk. 

“These big dogs.” Theon snickered, shaking his head. “Queenie looks like a spec of dust next to them.” 

"She's petite," Robb said, smiling down at her. "Pretty little lady." 

As they passed a group of children, one mother pulled her son back away from them, her eyes fixed worriedly on the two huge wolf dogs. Robb gave her a dirty look, patting Grey Wind's head. He turned his head up, tongue lolling happily.

“Robb!” Theon gave him a disapproving look. “She’s just worried, she doesn’t know.” He reached out with his free hand and gently squeezed Robb’s arm. 

"Judgemental old..." He trailed off, however, as Rickon turned down the first driveway and bolted up the path.

"Trick or treat!" he proclaimed at the door, holding up his bag. Shaggydog uttered a grumbling wroof to accompany the words.

“Oh, hello!” A little old lady opened the door, holding a big bowl of candy. “Just take a handful, honey! What a nice costume!” 

“I’m sure Shaggy is gonna help him get more.” Theon mumbled to Robb. 

"Think so?" Robb raised an eyebrow. Shaggydog's piercing gaze tracked the lady's every movement as Rickon fetched his candy, and he didn't move a muscle until the lady was stepping back inside. 

"Thank you!" Rickon said happily, turning and leading Shaggydog back down the path to where Theon and Robb were waiting.

“Shaggy looks like he’s having a good time.” Theon reached down with the hand that wasn’t holding Queenie’s leash and ruffled the wolfdog’s fur. “He’s gonna eat all your candy if you’re not careful.” 

"No, Shaggy!" Rickon said, holding one finger out in front of him. Shaggydog stared at it, and lifted his gaze to Rickon's face, unamused. Rickon laughed and spiked up his fur, leading them off towards the next house. Grey Wind slowed his pace enough so Queenie could keep up, while Shaggydog loped ahead of them all, only just refraining from yanking the leash.

“He and that dog are really something.” Theon couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head just slightly. Rickon may have grown taller with each year- and no doubt, he’d continue to grow like a damn bean stalk- but he still had all his childlike glee. 

"You're the same with Queenie, don't even try to deny it," laughed Robb, who was also exactly the same way with Grey Wind. "Runs in the family, I guess?" He smiled after his little brother, dashing along to the next house and hardly waiting for them to keep up.

“So damn silly.” Theon said fondly. “He’s gonna be a wacky little groomsman, you know.” The Stark boys were both going to be groomsmen, and the Stark girls were going to be groomsmaids. Jon, of course, was the best man, and Yara was the best bitch- as she’d chosen herself, not wanting to be called a ‘maid’ or ‘maiden.’ They would not announce to anyone that her title included such vulgarities, but if it helped her sleep at night, Theon didn’t mind letting her think of herself that way. 

"Speaking of," Robb said, slipping his free hand into Theon's and squeezing gently. "I love you. Never forget that, okay?" Grey Wind tromped through a pile of leaves, scattering them over the sidewalk.

“I love you too, lovely.” Theon squeezed his hand in return. “Drowned God, times been moving fast, hasn’t it?” 

"Yeah... A little too fast." With a sinister grin, Robb tugged Theon's arm and toppled him sideways into the leaf pile. Leaves exploded around him in a burst of autumn color, but Theon didn't let go of his hand and Robb stumbled and fell on top of him.

“Robb!” Theon yelped, laughing, cheeks flushed. “We’re supposed to be watching Rickon!” Their faces were just inches apart, and Robb looked so handsome it was unbelievable. 

"He's got Shaggy... I think we're okay, just for a minute..." Robb murmured, his eyes on Theon's pretty laughing face. "I love you, Thee. Wanna kiss you."

“Then kiss me, silly.” Theon playfully puckered his lips, making kissy noises and then bursting out in giggles. 

Robb dipped his head down and kissed him, eyes slipping shut in utter bliss. Theon was warm and familiar underneath him, lips soft on his own, and the leaves crunched as they both shifted. Grey Wind and Queenie milled about, sniffing at the leaf pile, and a moment later another set a paws joined them. Robb's head shot up, startled, and then the bodily weight of a well-fed nine-year-old was crashing into them as Rickon leaped into the pile, laughing his head off. 

"Robb and Theon, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!" he crowed.

“Oof, Rickon!” Theon gasped. “You’re getting too big for that! You are heavy!” He wriggled, trying to squirm out from beneath his fiancé and soon to be brother in law. “Gotta get up, bud!” 

Rickon rolled his eyes and got off them, even extending the courtesy of a hand to help them up. "Can we get more candy now?" he whined.

"Go on, buddy." Robb nodded towards the next house. "We're not stopping you."

"You guys disappeared to make out." He pulled a teasing face and dashed off up the next driveway, Shaggy hot on his heels.

Theon used Robb to stabilize himself as they got back to their feet, turning his head to plant a soft kiss on his cheek as they continued on after Rickon. They only made it a few steps before Theon was beginning to repeatedly trip over Queenie’s leash as she ran in front of him and, after the third time he tripped, sat right down in front of him. 

“Oh, you wanna be carried, you spoiled little girl?” He looked down at her, barely hiding his smile. “You can’t walk on those dainty little paws?” 

Queenie placed her front paws on Theon's knees, licking his nose. Her little tail wagged hopefully and she inched closer. 

"Carry the poor baby!" Robb cried. "Thee, she's asking so nicely!"

“Okay, okay!” Theon scooped her up in his arms before standing back up properly, rolling his eyes as she licked all over his face, just like a happy puppy. “You’re so darn spoiled. Can’t get your dainty little paws dirty, hm? Your teeny paws? Your tiny toes?” He was cooing, and Queenie was squirming with delight. 

Rickon was returning now, and he smiled at the sight of Queenie in Theon's arms. He hurried over to stroke her belly and tickle her paws, while Grey Wind looked between Queenie and Robb plaintively. 

"You're too heavy, buddy. Sorry," Robb said, frowning. Grey Wind was over a hundred pounds of muscle and hair, and Robb wouldn't be able to carry him around with any sort of ease.

“He’s asking so nicely!” Theon teased, laughing at the expression on the wolf dog’s face. “Poor baby.” Queenie let out a happy bark, and Theon turned his attention to Rickon. “She likes you! You’re making her a happy dog.” 

"I'm sorry, Grey. You are simply too large," Robb told him. Grey Wind let out a pitiful little whine and huffed air out through his nose. Rickon let go of Queenie's soft paw pads and looked down at his own dog. Shaggydog stared back up at him. 

"I think I could carry Shaggy," he said seriously.

“Rickon, please do not try to carry Shaggy.” Theon grimaced. “He is a very big boy, and I don’t think he’d much appreciate it.” 

Shaggydog gave a wolfish grin, as though challenging somebody to pick him up, and Rickon seemed to consider. After a moment, he shrugged and they went along to the next house. More kids were out now; the sun was lower in the sky and the air was cooler. They bypassed the Lannister house, and at the next two houses Rickon got massive candy bars, and an old lady gave the two wolfdogs rawhide bones, while Queenie received a smaller chewy bone.

Theon happily followed after Rickon, lightly bouncing Queenie in his arms and giving her the occasional but still rather frequent kiss on the head or the nose. She was a happy pup, giving him plenty of little doggie kisses in return. 

“Robb! Theon!” A familiar voice called out as they got further down King’s Road. Someone stepped out onto the porch next to Rickon and waved, and a bright smile broke out on Theon’s face when he recognized her. 

“Margaery! On candy duty tonight?” 

"You know it!" She shook the candy bowl, and held it out to them as they drew nearer. "Come on, take some. There's plenty, and you guys deserve something sweet." Grey Wind, carrying his bone, pushed his snout against her thigh, wagging his tail. She smiled down at him. "You smell your sister, don't you?"

"Were Sansa and Lady here?" Robb asked, tilting his head. He fetched a chocolate caramel bar from the bowl and thanked her while he peeled back the wrapper. 

"Bout an hour ago? She left to take Bran out with your mom."

Theon grabbed a chocolate covered wafer bar and shoved it in his pocket so he could continue using both hands to hold Queenie. “So you saw Bran’s weird crow costume.” He snorted. “The third eye and everything.”

“It was something.” Margaery agreed with a sly little grin. “He’s quite the philosopher, I’ve noticed.”

"He's crazy smart. I think mom's already worked it out with Citadel University, he'll be going there on a full scholarship, when he's 18. They're desperate for him," Robb said. "Jon's friend Sam goes there, too."

“He really is brilliant. Quite different from how Robb was at his age.” Theon teased with a snort, moving closer to Margaery as Queenie strained to lick her from a distance. 

"Hey! What d'you mean by that?" Robb cried in mock offense. Rickon rolled his eyes and sat down on the porch to open a pack of chalky candy, feeding one to Shaggydog.

“Nothing, love.” Theon laughed, kissing Robb on the cheek. Margaery took Queenie from him, letting the little fluff ball pepper her face with tiny doggie kisses. “Aw, Marg. She loves you!” 

"I love you! You are such a little cutie!" Margaery cooed, kissing Queenie's little nose. Queenie squirmed in excitement, her little paws outstretched. "Such a sweetie girl! Little love bug!"

Queenie was absolutely beside herself with joy and excitement, wiggling uncontrollably, trying to kiss as much of Margaery as she could. She yipped happily when she got a kiss on the nose, and Theon couldn’t help but laugh. 

“She’s such a crazy little girl!” 

Grey Wind let out a short bark followed by a rumbling whine, ramming his snout against first Theon's hand and then Robb's. "You are such a brat," Robb told him, stroking his ears flat back against his head. Grey Wind stared back at him, blissfully uncaring. "Nobody can get any attention unless you come first, hm?"

Theon reached down to give him some pats as well, wiping his own wet noise juices onto his head. “Silly boy. He just wants some love too.” He said cheerily, smiling down at the massive dog, only stopping his pats when Margaery gave Queenie a final smooch and handed her back over to Theon. He happily took his little fuzz ball back into his arms. “Asking us to leave, Margaery?”

“I’m not, but I think he is.” Margaery let out a little giggle and pointed to the nine year old, who had stood up and was standing in the middle of the walkway from the road to the porch, arms crossed over his chest and expression annoyed. 

"Oh— Sorry, Rickon," Robb called. "We're coming, okay? Thank you for being patient. It was nice seeing you, Margaery," he said, smiling at her. Margaery waved goodbye as they headed off the porch and followed after Rickon, who was setting a determined pace onwards to the next house.

Theon followed after him, and they spent a good hour or so trick or treating before Rickon finally decided he’d had enough. The pillowcase was half full with an absurd amount of candy that Catelyn would be sure to hide most of and ration out to him on occasion. They were all tired of walking at that point, and the way back home had them all grumbling in annoyance. 

By the time they got inside, Theon and Robb were both ready to just collapse on the couch with each other, wrapped up in blankets with a mildly scary movie on. At some point Bran and Sansa came home, as did Arya, and it wasn’t long before Theon and Robb had fallen asleep on the couch in the Stark family home. 

Catelyn was the one who found them there, and she couldn’t help but smile to see her son looking so content, holding his fiancé and snoring softly. They didn’t live in the house anymore, but she wasn’t about to wake them up and make them go home. Queenie and Grey Wind were both curled up on the floor, looking up at her, so she gently shushed them before placing a soft kiss atop her son’s head, fixing the blankets overtop of the couple, and quietly leaving the room.


	41. Chapter 41

The cake. They had forgotten the godsdamn cake. 

Robb stared down at his phone screen with a quiet sort of desperation, panic hot in his veins. He had the number to Hot Pie Bakery all typed up and ready to dial, but he couldn't bring himself to hit the button. Hot Pie wouldn't be able to to make such a cake in such a short span of time, and it really wasn't fair to thrust this upon him now, so last minute... But the wedding was the very next day, and they couldn't not have a cake. He deleted the number and abandoned his phone on the countertop, dashing off down the hall to the bedroom. Grey Wind dashed after him, his tail wagging a mile a minute and tongue lolling, like all this running about was a grand game. 

"Theon!" Robb banged open the bedroom door. "The cake! We forgot to order the cake!"

Theon took a moment to realize what he meant before sitting up, eyes going wide with realization. “Oh fuck. Fuck! We didn’t order the cake! Did you call Hot Pie to ask if he can make one?” 

"Theon. It's nine at night the day before the wedding, we can't call him now!" Robb ran his hands through his hair, pacing. "We have to make one. Right now."

“We- make one?” Theon stood, hurrying to pull on a pair of sweatpants and one of Robb’s old sweaters. “Fuck. We have to buy cake mix. And frosting! And decorations! Fuck!” 

"Let's go, then. If we hurry we can make it to the store and back in an hour." Robb grabbed his keys and wallet off the nightstand.

“Okay, yeah. Bye bye Queenie, bye Grey Wind.” Theon gave them each a quick smooch before stepping into a worn out pair of flip flops that were far from ideal in the snowy weather. “Fuck, your mom is gonna be so disappointed in us.” 

"No. She won't know. We'll make such a good cake that she can't tell we made it." Robb said this so confidently he almost believed it. He ruffled the dogs' fur on their way out the door, and opened the car door for Theon before looping around and hopping into the driver's side. "Buckled? Good. We're gonna speed."

Robb wasn’t lying, and Theon thanked the Drowned God they didn’t run into any cops on the way to Davos’s Friendly Family Market. They both scrambled to get out of the car, almost slipping and falling in their hurry to the entrance. “We need to get this stuff fast, Robb. It needs to look professional.” 

"Name brand everything then, hm?" They hurried inside, holding on to each other's arms for stability as they slipped in the icy parking lot, and grabbed a cart. There was few other people there, and they cruised right through to the bakery aisle in record timing.

“I guess we have to.” Theon grabbed two things of vanilla frosting, throwing them in the cart, then added sparkly blue sprinkles and some sugar pearls. “What kind of cake, Robb? Pick the mix.”

"Basic white? Or do you want vanilla?" Robb poked between boxes of plain vanilla, Dornish vanilla, and buttercream vanilla. "There's a lot of options."

“Basic white. Get two boxes. We will make it two layers, so it seems professional.” Theon said, watching as Robb tossed two boxes in the cart. “Any more decorations? Silver sprinkles? A cake stand?” He pointed to a bottle, and then to a plastic silver cake stand, which wasn’t exactly top of the line, but looked elegant enough. 

"Yes, of course. It has to look elegant." Robb seized the bottle and the stand and tossed them into the cart with the rest of the stuff. "Anything else we need?"

“I don’t think so? We have eggs and oil for it. I think we’re all set?” Theon anxiously looked over the items in the cart. 

"Awesome. We're all set then... Let's go! Self-checkout?" Without really waiting for an answer, Robb sped off towards the self-checkout by the doors, with Theon rushing along at his side.

They scanned everything, haphazardly throwing it all into a plastic bag. Theon grabbed it while Robb paid with his card, both of them in a rush to get back home and make this cake. When the payment went through and the receipt printed, Robb’s card safely tucked back into his wallet, they hurried to return the cart and get back to the car. 

"Ready to make this cake?" Robb grinned, speeding once more out of the parking lot. "Making good time, Thee. It won't even be an hour! I bet we'll be in bed by midnight."

“Perfect!” Theon nodded, fiddling with the radio stations as they drove. He needed something to occupy him as he thought about baking this damn cake. “We can each work on one of the mixes, then put them in the oven at the same time. Then cool them in the freezer. It says to cook them for-“ He pulled out one of the boxes, looking at the back, “Thirty one minutes. That’s not too long.” 

"Thirty one? That's specific." Robb gave a little laugh. "While they cook and cool, we can get ideas together for decorating. We could look at idea pictures online?"

“It has to be original. We can figure it out while they cook, yeah.” Theon agreed, nearly jumping out of the car once Robb was parked in the driveway, watching him fumble with the keys to unlock the front door. They greeted the dogs as they hurried to the kitchen, Theon dumping the bag out on the counter and grabbing the ingredients while Robb got the bowls, pans, and mixing spoons. 

Robb set about preheating the oven to the right temperature once the materials were all laid out, and Theon was tearing open the bags of cake mix. Grey Wind sniffed curiously at the edge of the countertop, while Queenie bumbled about at their feet.

They finished their respective bowls of mix relatively fast, greasing up the pans before pouring all the mix into them. They barely spoke as they did it, just trying to finish as quickly as possible and get the damn things in the oven. They threw the pans in, closed the oven door, and Theon looked at Robb and sighed. 

“We are fucking stupid.” 

"It's okay. We're fixing it. I already have ideas for decorating it!" Robb said gaily, waving it off. "I was thinking we whip the frosting to look like waves, and use the blue and silver sprinkles to make it look like water?"

“Perfect! No one will know we made it ourselves!” Theon agreed, and thirty one minutes later, they were taking the pans out of the oven and shoving them into the freezer. 

Robb wrapped his arms around Theon from behind. He kissed his cheek and nuzzled against him. "I love you, baby. Tomorrow... I get to marry you tomorrow."

“You’ll be my husband in less than twenty four hours.” Theon leaned back against him, soft smile on his face. “And we’ll get to eat this beautiful cake we make.” 

"I can't wait." Robb spun Theon around in his arms and swayed like they were dancing, but there was no music. He smiled at him, sweet and full of love, clasping Theon's hands in his.

“We’ll be dancing on the venue floor this time tomorrow. As husbands. With our wedding bands.” They stopped dancing as Grey Wind ran in front of them, stopping their movements, and tilted his head back to let out a pitiful little howl. 

"What's the matter, Grey? You're coming, baby boy, don't worry." Robb dropped to his knees and kissed Grey Wind's nose, and Grey Wind licked his in turn.

“He wants attention, little brat boy.” Theon teased, reaching down to pat his fuzzy little head. Queenie looked up and yipped, so he knelt down to pet her too. 

"No, he wants to dance! Right, Grey?" Robb grabbed him by the paws and Grey Wind leaped up, his tongue lolling free and his eyes wild. "Look! He's so happy, my baby boy Grey!" Robb swayed with Grey Wind's paws in his hands, his hind paws dancing back over the kitchen tile.

Theon scooped Queenie up to dance with her as well, bouncing her in his arms. “She’s a good little girl. A good little lady.”

"A bouncy girl! And a handsome boy!" Robb bent over and smooched Grey Wind's nose again, sliding his hands down his forelegs so he would have better balance. His tail was wagging furiously, sweeping over the floor.

“Wow, what a good dancer.” Theon snorted, looking over at Grey Wind. “Amazing. He’s so talented.” 

"He is simply the best." But Grey Wind was wriggling free now, dropping back down to all four paws and trotting away to get a drink of water from his bowl. Impatient, Robb opened the freezer door and peeked in at the cakes. 

Theon placed Queenie down and walked up behind him, reaching out to poke the cake, which was still probably too warm to decorate. “It feels perfect.” 

"Perfect!" He reached in and pulled the cakes free, placing them on the countertop. "Uh... How do we stick cake layers together again? Just frosting?"

“Yeah, just frosting.” Theon agreed, pulling out a flat cutting board to put it on. “It’ll work perfect.” He opened a tub of frosting, ripping off the aluminum foil and grabbing a rubber spatula. 

Robb grabbed the other tub and another spatula. "Should we frost each layer first, before we stack them?" he asked. That made the most sense to him; then they wouldn't have to risk knocking it askew if they frosted after stacking.

Theon gave Robb an odd look. “No? Then you’d see the separation between the layers. That would be tacky.” He plopped one of the cakes onto the cutting board. “We put frosting on this then place the other one on top!”

"Oh. Okay." He watched as Theon slathered frosting on top of one of the layers, and he placed the other one gently on top. "Perfect." He dipped his spatula into his tub of frosting, and began to carefully frost the side facing him.

Theon looked skeptically at the cake as Robb began to frost it. “Robb. It’s... I think it might be a little crooked.” 

"Wh- What?" He bent over and looked at it straight on. "No, I don't think so. It looks alright to me."

“You know what? Maybe you’re right.” Theon shrugged and began to frost it as well, accidentally peeling up a thin layer of cake when he didn’t put enough frosting on. He shrugged it off and continued frosting, leaving crumbs imbedded in it. 

"We'll just put extra glitter sprinkles on that spot," Robb said. He found himself putting a little too much frosting on his side, and scooped some off to put on the top. He accidentally slid the spatula too deep and it poked into the cake. He stared at it for a moment. "And that spot."

“It’ll be fine.” Theon agreed, scooping almost half the tub of frosting out onto the cake and sloppily spreading it along the sides. “The- uh- the frosting doesn’t have to look perfect, because the sprinkles cover it.” 

"Yeah, and if it looks choppy it's like the ocean!" Robb may have been getting too excited, but he didn't care too much. He copied Theon and did the same with his frosting, spreading a liberal amount all over his working half.

“Yeah!” Theon agreed, eager for the cake to look good. They soon finished off both tubs of frosting, and stepped back to look at the cake. There were flecks of cake crumbs all over it, and it was now very obviously crooked. He swallowed hard, looking over at Robb. “The sprinkles will fix that, right?” 

"Um..." Robb knelt down to be eye level with the cake and he scraped a couple of the bigger cake flecks out of the frosting with a fork. "Does that look better? I can try and straighten it out, too."

“Robb, that’s-“ The scraping had merely made it look worse. “Let’s just do the sprinkles. It’s fine.” 

"Okay." He stood up again and licked the fork clean absentmindedly while Theon tore off the plastic wrapping around the lid of the sprinkles. "Should we put those on first, or the sugar pearls?"

“Sprinkles? Then they won’t cover the pearls.” Theon decided, handing Robb the blue bottle while he took the silver. 

Robb shook the bottle decisively over the middle of the cake, glittery blue sprinkles cascading down to coat the white frosting. "This is gonna look nice, Thee. A little crooked, but nice."

“No one will notice it’s crooked.” Theon reached out for Robb to give him a handful of sprinkles, and began to pat them onto the side. “Yeah, it looks great.” 

Robb gave one final shake of blue sprinkles on top. "Is this enough?" he asked, turning it slightly so the light would catch on the glittery sprinkles.

The cake was absolutely coated in the blue sprinkles. Theon lifted up the silver to shake a bunch on the top of the cake before nodding. “Okay. Pearls now?” He tore open the package and poured each of them a handful. 

"Yeah!" Robb began to place them around the edge of the cake, lining the curves. "How does this look? Good?"

“Put them closer together, maybe?” He wouldn’t say it aloud, but the random uneven spaces between the pearls Robb was placing looked extremely tack. Theon himself was on the other side lining his all up directly next to each other, all nice and neat.

"They're not that bad," he said, a little defensively. "I was spacing them further just in case we didn't have enough." He filled up the spaces anyways, so there was a perfect line of sugar pearls all around the edge of the cake.

“Perfect.” Theon said once they finished lining the top edge. The line was wobbly, but he figured anyone would make a few mistakes with a long line of pearls. “Now we line the base?” 

Robb examined the amount of pearls they had left. "Yeah! And..." He took a handful and began to line a neat heart in the top middle of the cake. "How's that?"

“Perfect!” Theon said again, too biased by his love for his fiancé to realize that the cake already looked like it was made by a second grader. He began lining the base, and it went quicker than lining the top edge had. 

"This looks really nice!" Robb grinned, taking in their finished creation. "I, uh, don't think it's really big enough for everybody? But it's okay. It'll be fine."

“We can move it onto the cake stand tomorrow morning.” Theon nodded, looking proudly at the cake. It was not even 11:30pm yet, according to the stove clock, and he felt triumphant. “Let’s just put it in the fridge and shower, then we can go to bed?” 

"Sounds perfect." Robb transferred the cake into the fridge and scooped Theon up into his arms, carrying him bridal-style down the hall to the bathroom. "Our last night as fiancés," he purred, tugging the sweatshirt up over Theon's head. "We should make the most of it."


	42. Chapter 42

Theon woke up at eight in the morning, which wasn’t abnormal for him. He used to sleep late, but after Ramsay, that habit had seemed to stop. He stayed in Robb’s arms for a little while, cozy and warm, breathing in his scent. They were both naked, skin on skin, and Theon couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the night before. Rushing to make the cake, and then the sex they had after it... he let out a blissful sigh, closing his eyes and nuzzling his face against Robb’s neck. Their rented tuxes were tucked safely away in garment bags in the closet, and all their groomsmen and groomsmaids had their tuxes and dresses as well. 

The chairs would be lined up in front of the archway on the beach, a simple white wedding arch, and they’d already told the venue which seats they wanted reserved for who, and where they wanted the photos of Ned and Alannys. In the first row were all the specifically reserved seats. Ned’s photo was on the seat closest to the aisle on one side, with Catelyn’s seat reserved next to it, and Alannys’s photo was the closest to the aisle on the other side, with his Uncle Rodrik’s seat next to it. Next to Rodrik was a seat for his Aunt Gwynesse, and on her other side were seats saved for Daenerys, Jeyne Poole, and Jeyne Westerling. Brienne Tarth had a reserved seat next to Catelyn- Theon was still surprised she’d be able to come, and it was still weird for him to think of her and her husband by their first names- and Jaime Lannister would be next to her, with Margaery next to him, and Robb’s Uncle Benjen next to her. 

The second row was reserved for family, but had no specific names on the seats. It was likely that people like Lysa Arryn and Edmure Tully would show up, with whatever significant other they happened to have at the time. There were sure to be some other random Starks too, cousins or something Theon didn’t know about. Other than that the seats were up for grabs for anyone else. 

He let out a little huff of laughter again. He was thinking too much, listing out everything in his head. It was all set up, it would all be fine. 

Robb's nose scrunched and his eyes squinted further shut. Theon's soft sounds and movements were rousing him, albeit reluctantly, and he clung desperately to the last remaining threads of sleep before they too slipped away. He let out a soft sigh through his nose and let his eyes slit open, peering down at Theon. "G'morning, baby," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "Sleep good?"

“Mhm...” Theon hummed, smiling back at him. “We’re getting married today. I’m surprised I got any sleep, I’m so damn excited.” 

"That excited to marry me?" He gave a tired grin. "I'm flattered... I could still sleep, though..." Robb rolled onto his side facing Theon, smushing his face into the pillow.

“We gotta be there by two, don’t forget.” Theon teased, as if the time weren’t hours away. “And we also have to make sure there’s time to move the cake onto its stand. And get our tuxes and shoes in the car. And get Queenie and Grey Wind brushed and ready.” 

"Moving the cake? That'll take the whole four hours," Robb whined, a smirk playing at his lips. "We should shower again though, hm? I don't think we got too clean last night..."

“So early to be horny.” Theon teased, playfully grinding against Robb’s leg a few times. “You’ll have to be gentle with me. I have to walk down the aisle later.” 

"Yeah....." Robb trailed off, letting the word hang. "Don't forget, we have our whole honeymoon, too. You won't be walking for three weeks."

“Oh no, poor me.” Theon lamented, though his tone and expression remained playful. 

Robb rolled over and kicked the blankets off them to the end of the bed, so the cool air of the bedroom assaulted their naked bodies. "I'm awake!" he announced, grinning despite the cold discomfort. "Share a shower with me? I promise I'll behave..."

“You better be.” Theon laughed, climbing up out of bed. “We just showered last night, and already you want to shower again.” He rolled his eyes. 

"What, you wanna smell like sweat and sex at your own wedding?" Robb put a hand to his chest in mock disgust. "Here I thought we could use the finest soaps we have at our disposal— Grey Mists!"

“Oh boy, we will reek of high school Robb Stark!” Theon gasped, before giggling and leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. 

"High school? Nah, it's Grey Mists every day!" Robb grabbed him by the hand, laughing. "This is what happens when you peak in high school, Thee. You use the same soap— forever."

“Loser.” He said fondly, following him into the bathroom. “You’re a college student who peaked in high school, huh?” 

"Well. That's when I got you, isn't it? Unless I peak today, when I get to marry you." Robb squeezed his hand, looking over at him with a small smile.

“You’re such a dork.” Theon leaned over to kiss him softly, pulling after after a few moments. “Alright, babe. Let’s take this shower.”

—-

They arrived at the venue at almost 2:00pm on the dot, the back of Robb’s car full of dogs and garment bags, and the cake balanced carefully on Theon’s lap. Sansa ran out almost immediately to help them, eagerly taking the aluminum-foil covered cake from Theon. She gave it an odd look. 

“Hot Pie gave you the cake on the stand all wrapped in foil?” 

"Yeah," Robb said, shrugging. "Is that not what they normally do?" He exchanged a look with Theon, barely able to contain a smile. So they had fudged one thing, but the cake itself still came out great.

“Well... no. But alright.” Sansa shrugged, turning to bring the cake inside, and Theon barely stifled his giggles. Queenie hopped up into the front once she saw Theon’s lap was free, her eyes big and round and begging for attention, so he scooped her up in his arms and planted a little kiss on her head. 

“She’s excited.” He cooed. 

"Hi, little love," Robb said, taking her little paws in his hands. "Are you ready to get brushed and dressed up?" At the word 'brush', Grey Wind shied away from them, amber eyes suddenly wary. "Yes, Grey, you too. Your fur is all knotted, you stinky brat."

“He doesn’t like being called stinky.” Theon pouted, smooching Queenie’s head again. “But Queenie is excited. She wants to put on her new collar and hold her little basket.” 

"Don't you want to get dressed up, Grey?" Robb knelt down and raked his fingers through his fur. "You'll be so soft, and so handsome! All the lady dogs will be impressed!" He paused, realizing that most of the dogs there would be his own littermates, unless some of their guests went ahead and accepted their pet invites.

“He already is handsome.” Theon went to grab a garment bag, but then Sansa was outside again and grabbing the bags with their tuxes for them. Her hair and makeup were done already, both pretty and simple, but she was wearing sweatpants and a large zip up hoodie. 

“I’ve got this stuff, you guys bring in the dogs. Margaery wants to brush them.” She giggled. 

"I'll tell her good luck. Thanks, Sans!" Robb clucked his tongue, having Grey Wind trudge alongside him, head down, anticipating his doom. Theon followed with Queenie in his arms, and it was a good thing they still had to change because strands of long hair covered his chest and lap.

“There are the stars of the day!” Margaery exclaimed, waiting just inside the door and kneeling down to pet the dogs. “Oh, and hi to you two as well.” She grinned, winking playfully up at the grooms. 

Theon snorted. “Oh yes, this is their day to shine. We’re really just having this wedding to showcase our dogs, right, Robb?” 

"Well, yeah! I thought that was obvious." Robb walked over to the little shelf that held the dogs' accessories. "Look! Custom made, just for them!"

Theon rolled his eyes. “Margaery, Sansa said you wanted to brush them?”

Margaery perked up even more, nodding. “Yeah! I’d love to!” 

"You might have to leash Grey Wind, he really doesn't like the b-r-u-s-h. At all," Robb said, glancing at his cautious dog. "Poor baby has sensitive skin and he hates the bristles, but his fur gets so tangled."

“He does not have sensitive skin, he’s just a big baby.” Theon rolled his eyes again, handing Queenie over to Margaery and laughing as the little fluff ball kissed all over her face. 

"He does too! My boy is delicate!" Robb cried, covering Grey Wind's ears so he didn't have to hear the slander. "Please Margaery, don't listen to my fiance, he doesn't know what he's talking about."

“Yeah, okay.” Theon snorted. “Protect the crybaby’s honor. I’m not the one who called him a stinky brat.” 

"Let me just..." Margaery snaked between them, Queenie balanced in her arms, and gently took Grey Wind by the collar. "I'll take the dogs. You guys go get yourselves together, okay? No arguing on your wedding day!"

“Yeah, stinky. No arguing.” Theon teased, sticking his tongue out as his fiancé. 

"Calling me stinky? Rude-ass, we just showered a few hours ago." 

"You guys are ridiculous. Go get dressed!" Margaery interrupted, shooing them away to the side room.

Theon laughed, stumbling in with Robb, happy to see the bags holding their tuxes were hung up on a hook on the back of the door. “Drowned God, we’re gonna be getting married.” 

"Still doesn't feel really, right?" Robb turned a glowing look on him, but suddenly his mother was at his side and taking his arm, guiding him away with a wink towards Theon. 

"Not in the same room boys, it's tradition," she said. Yara came in for Theon, grabbing him by the shoulder. She wore a well-tailored suit with a flair befitting her personality, whilst Catelyn wore a floral-patterned dress with her hair done in elegant waves.

“I have to bring my tux!” Theon protested, managing to grab the garment bag before he was pulled out by his sister, laughing the whole time. 

"Take your suit, Robb," Catelyn instructed. Robb did so, and followed her as she led him out of that room and up a set of stairs, into a side room down a hall. Jon was waiting for him there, his hair tied back with several loose strands falling free. He smirked at the sight of Robb, led about by his mother's hand like a child, but said nothing in Catelyn's presence. She left them to it, squeezing his hands in hers for a moment before stepping out of the room with her eyes looking dangerously wet. 

"You ready, Robb?" Jon asked, looking into his eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, I— I can't wait," Robb breathed, excitement thrumming though him, along with nerves.

In the other room, Theon was fussing over his hair, with Yara occasionally smacking his hand and telling him it was fine and to stop being a drama queen. He was ready soon enough, though, and practically vibrating with excitement. 

"Keep still!" Yara scolded, swatting him again. "How do you expect me to tie this if you're squirming like a fish?" She tugged the tie into a firm knot, sliding it neatly against his throat. "Look at you, baby brother." Looking rather proud, she squeezed his shoulder and turned him around to face the mirror. "Are you ready?"

“Hell yeah.” Theon smiles brightly as he looked at his reflection. “You ready to walk me down the aisle?” 

"Take my hand, Thee. I got ya," she said cheerily. In the absence of any kind of living father figure, Yara was leading Theon down the aisle, and then taking her spot by his side as resident best bitch.

He hooked his arm with hers. “Robb should be there already. I have to go after Queenie. She lays out the flowers for me.” He said with a grin. 

"And Queenie goes after Grey Wind, yeah, I know," she teased. Theon had been rehearsing it both in his head and out loud for days now, eager for the ceremony. "We've gotta have somebody that's nice to look at here, besides Dany. You're doing us a favor with Queenie, really."

“Oh, shut up.” Theon laughed, heading outside and toward the path through the small forest toward the beach. A ways ahead, he could see the groomsmen with Grey Wind, and a little closer, he saw the groomsmaids with Queenie. 

Flowers and fairy lights twined around the archway, draping elegantly at the bottom. Robb stood under the archway, his eyes shining in the soft white light, watching Theon approach from the wooded path. Yara brought Theon down the aisle, stepping over the strewn petals, and all the heads turned to watch him go.

A wide, bright smile broke out on Theon’s face as he saw Robb, so tall and handsome in front of the small waves of the ocean, his eyes so blue and so bright. He wanted to run to him, but he kept walking, letting Yara bring him to his soon-to-be-husband. When he was finally in front of him, his smile widened. 

“You look brilliant.”

Robb raked his eyes up Theon's body, his lips parted and cheeks pink. "Theon, you... Gods, you're so handsome, Thee... We're about to get married." He was so handsome, just gorgeous even, in that black and gold suit. His eyes were the same shade of green-blue as the waves behind them, and the sea breeze tugged at loose curls, tossing them about.

The septon behind them smiled gently and softly cleared his throat. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Mr. Robb Stark and Mr. Theon Greyjoy.” 

Theon reached out to take Robb’s hands in his own, squeezing gently. 

“My gentlemen, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and husband. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." The septon continued, pulling out a cloth. "Let it be known that Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." He began carefully wrapping the cloth around their joined hands. "In the sight of the Seven, the Drowned God, and the Old Gods, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity."

The septon finally quieted, and Theon smiled, opening his mouth to speak. “Robb. I met you at one of the darkest times in my life, because you reached out to me. From the start, I knew your heart was in the right place. You shared your food with me when I was hungry. You shared your smiles when I had only tears. You made me laugh when I hadn’t in so long. And you became my best friend. You welcomed me with open arms and took me in, as if I were part of the family. You stayed with me through the good and the bad for years, always at my side. We don’t need a ceremony or a certificate to prove our love, or to make us closer, but I want this. I want to call you husband, and soon I will.” 

Robb studied Theon's face, his heart swelling in his chest. Gods, he loved him. "Theon," he began, slow like he was savoring the name. "I am so lucky to have found you. You've been my best friend for fourteen years, and so many more to come. There isn't a thing I wouldn't do for you, and there isn't a person on this planet I ever have, or ever will, love more than you. You are my everything, my sweet Thee, and I want to be yours forever. I want to be whatever you need me to be." Robb longed to reach out and cup Theon's cheek, but he refrained. He wasn't sure if that would be frowned upon, with the formality of the ceremony. "I want to grow old with you, and raise our dogs, our kids, our grandkids. I want to always be there for you, no matter what... I promised years ago that I would protect you, and I haven't exactly done a fantastic job, but I want to keep trying as long as you'll have me. I want to keep loving you, and sixty years from now I want to look at you and love you still, and be able to look back on our life together and have no regrets. You are my everything, Thee, my entire world, and I'll be the same to you."

Theon felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he looked at Robb, his Robb, so perfect and handsome. 

The septon spoke up again, his voice soft. “Look upon each other and say the words.” 

Theon and Robb opened their mouths and, in unison, as the septon finished tying the cloth around their clasped hands, they began to speak;

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his, and he is mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”

Theon felt like he was floating on a cloud as he heard Robb speak, saying “With this kiss, I pledge my love.” as the septon then untied to cloth. His now husband leaned in to kiss him, and Theon kissed back, while their family and friends- even his mother and Robb’s father- watched from the audience. They were tied together now, in heart and soul, in the eyes of gods and men, and there was no one Theon would rather be tied to. No one he would rather be in love with. 

When Robb pulled away from the kiss, Theon couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him again. All the while waves crashed in the background, and soft flakes of snow began to fall from the sky. 

They were in love, their world was finally at peace, and it was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve reached the end. This may turn out to just be the first one and the sequel, as the threequel is not coming along.


End file.
